


Cathexis

by Weconqueratdawn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Bondage, Caning, Car Sex, Consent Play, D/s, Doctor/Patient, Dom Hannibal, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Flogging, Frottage, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Happy Ending, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Play Fighting, Relationship Negotiation, Restraints, Rimming, Sadism, Season/Series 01, Semi-Public Sex, Sex is Therapy & Therapy is Sex, Spanking, Sub Will, Switching, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weconqueratdawn/pseuds/Weconqueratdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hannibal's sadistic tendencies only find expression through consensual BDSM relationships? Set in a Season 1 AU where Will is allowed to continue teaching, relatively undisturbed by Jack, and seeks Hannibal's professional help of his own accord.</p><p>In psychoanalysis, cathexis is the process of investment of mental or emotional energy in a person, object, or idea (especially to an unhealthy degree).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to wraithsonwings and lordofthelesbians for beta and general hand-holding duties. Any errors are mine.
> 
> And in real life, please always use condoms :)

Hannibal watched Will pace around the room. He noted Will’s frequent glances at the door and windows; the hunch of Will’s shoulders and the fisting of his hands.

"Will. I gave you a clean bill of health to continue consulting on an ad hoc basis and I also strongly recommended that Jack keep you at arm's length. You have got what you required from our sessions. And yet, here you still are."

Will grimaced. "I didn’t hear any objections from you when I asked to come back."

"If I feel I can help, I will endeavour to do so." Hannibal joined Will at the window. "These are unofficial, private sessions held at your request. You have nothing to worry about."

"I can't believe I'm voluntarily standing in a psychiatrist's office," Will said tightly. "No offence."

"Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if you sat instead?" Hannibal said with a smile.

Will sighed and went back to his chair. Hannibal sat, pinching out the crease in his trousers and smiled. "My profession seems to have made itself very unpopular with you."

"I've been of professional interest to psychologists and psychiatrists for a very long time. It gets tiring, having people poking around inside your head."

"You felt you were merely a curiosity? An interesting case study on which their careers could be built."

"An empathy disorder and a rather fascinating collection of neuroses. And not much else."

Hannibal paused. "You sound... bitter."

"Because I am. Anyone would be. That's a normal reaction."

"I agree. I've read your notes, all of them. Your first psychological evaluation took place at the age of eight, and continued into your teens at regular intervals. Once you received your empathy diagnosis it seems you were of particular interest."

"I got a diagnosis, yes, and also the extremely scientific and precise descriptor 'unstable'." 

"And you feel abandoned by these professionals? They labelled you and moved on to write up their papers."

Will hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you could say that."

"While you've had to live with the consequences of being found lacking. It's prevented you from doing a job you worked hard to qualify for. And perhaps you also worry there may be a grain of truth in it?"

"Maybe. It's hard not to. It's vague enough to apply to almost anything." Will paused. "Is this what we're going to talk about? Are you going to debunk my supposed instability?"

"We will talk about whatever you wish."

"Do you find my empathy disorder fascinating, Doctor?"

"It would not be honest of me to say I didn't. However, you are here because you asked to be not because I wish to make a study of your disorder." Hannibal shifted in his chair, leaned closer to Will. "Which brings me back to my original question. What do you hope to achieve in these sessions, Will?"

"We’ve talked a lot already, in our 'official' sessions. And you signed me off. I feel as comfortable as I'm ever going to get with a psychiatrist. I want- I want an informal continuation of where we left off. Just for me, not for a report or out of professional curiosity. It’s my choice this time."

"Good. It’s useful for me to know what you hope therapy can achieve for you. It sounds like you wish to deal with the unfinished business your previous psychological attendants left behind. And possibly gain some clarity around the term 'unstable' and how it might relate to you. Does that sound accurate?"

"Very succinctly put."

"Then that is where we shall begin. Tell me, Will, what you understand by the term 'unstable' and how you feel about it."

Will sat back in his chair, and felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders. "It was indicated to me that it was undesirable, that I struggle for balance and my objectivity could be questioned. Creating a life for myself could also be difficult - job, home, relationships. I _feel_ ," Will placed a bitter, drawn out emphasis on the word, "that what they really meant is broken. That I'm broken."

"Do you think you are broken?"

"I think I was told I was broken from the age of eight. I'd say I don't have much choice in the matter now."

"You could argue that you've done a lot to disprove this label. Becoming a police officer, your work in forensic psychology, with the FBI, teaching. You have a home life which seems to suit you. Friends. Why should it still stick? I'm sure you know more about psychological evaluation than those who treated you as a child."

"I'm not sure I can count 'friends' as one of my achievements. Relationships in general don't go so well for me."

"I believe you have more than you think. And that is true for many people. Issues of trust, usually, not instability."

Will directed his gaze at Hannibal. "Is that why you're doing this? Out of friendship?"

"Yes. And I find you interesting to talk to. A closely guarded secret of psychiatry is that not everything which happens in this room is that absorbing. Other people’s minds, feelings, thoughts can be exceedingly dull."

Will smiled. "Is it usual to be friends with your patients?"

"You're technically not my patient. If we're friends I have by definition more than a professional interest in you. Your well-being would be important to me. Why do you feel comfortable talking to me if not for that reason?"

"Morally you could say I'm still your patient.” Will hesitated. “Is my well-being important to you?"

"Of course. You've never been interested in therapy before so if you want me to be your conduit in beginning that process, I will. I can always refer you if either of us feel you would be better served that way. But for now, it's just us, just talking, just as you wanted."

"So you think I'll benefit, that I should be in therapy. Do you think I'm unstable?"

"You've grown up with that label and it has affected you. I think you've found advantages in it, as well as disadvantages. In some ways it has served your purposes, channelled you in particular directions."

Will tried to contain his sudden flare of anger and failed. "You have to be joking."

"It's a possibility. You may have had certain behaviours excused, for example."

Will frowned, stared at the floor, not speaking. He found his fists were clenched on his knees. Hannibal waited. Over the roaring in Will’s ears, he could hear the little sounds of the room - a clock gently ticking, the soft squeak of fabric on expensive leather when he shifted in his seat, and a very faint hum of traffic outside.

Eventually, Hannibal spoke. "You are different, not unstable. Being thought unstable has allowed you to develop that difference, that which sets you apart."

"How can you suggest that-" Will bit off. He thought back, over his childhood, how at each new school he'd stood out through his intelligence and his regular 'meetings' with teachers and counsellors. How no matter how hard he tried he always ended up conspicuous by his difference. He groped for the right words, the words to make Hannibal understand.

"I- I don’t want to be like this. How can I have benefited from being labelled, being isolated, being- “. Will swallowed back the sudden heat blossoming in his chest. “The last relationship I had- when she left me, she said it was because she deserved to be with someone stable. She couldn’t live with- she didn’t want to waste her life. I know, I knew I wasn’t as good to her as I could have been, but- I thought she understood. I thought I was enough."

"A common issue in relationships. We all want to be understood, to be seen and accepted. The disappointment we feel when we realise we won't find it with that particular person can be very great. Is that a particular fear? That you might be unlovable?"

"I already know I am. The best relationships I ever had were one night stands. Which, by the way, I can count on the fingers of one hand."

"Because they never got to see you."

"Yes. And no one tried to fix me. It was simple."

“Will, please do not misunderstand me. I would not suggest that you have exploited your diagnosis for your own benefit. When we are drowning, we would cling on to any passing driftwood to survive, no? Just as you wouldn’t judge a drowning man, I would encourage you not to judge yourself for using anything within your reach to keep your head above the water."

Will’s mouth quirked. “That’s an extremely dark metaphor, Doctor."

Hannibal smiled, easy, open. “A bad habit of mine. I will endeavour to be more cheerfully American. But I’m afraid our time is up. Perhaps you’d care to join me for dinner?”

 

Will continued to meet Hannibal once a week, usually followed by dinner afterwards. He knew it was an unconventional arrangement but wasn't overly troubled by it. How he decided to go about his therapy was his business, and maybe Hannibal's justification that it was better for Will to seek his assistance than none at all held some water.

He also had to admit he felt a little lighter, a touch less troubled than he had of late. The nightmares seemed less frequent. During their sessions, Hannibal seemed solid and benevolent - so very able to hold Will's words in trust until he was ready to pick them up again.

As usual, Hannibal greeted Will at his office door. Will put his bag down and took his chair. There was a glass of wine waiting for him, a habit that had grown over the last few sessions.

"Good to see you, Will." Hannibal said, joining him in the chair opposite.

Will smiled, somewhat ironically. "I bet."

As Will expected, Hannibal ignored this comment and reached for his own glass. "I apologise in advance for the cliché Will, but tell me about your mother."

Will almost smiled. "Well. I don't know what I was expecting but I wasn't expecting that."

Hannibal waited patiently, until Will sighed. "I don't know what you expect me to say. I didn't know her. It was just me and my dad. That's it."

"You never asked about her, never had any contact with her side of the family, nothing?"

Will thought. "Dad didn't like talking about it. All I knew was she was gone and not coming back. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. She didn't have any relatives that I know of - we moved around a lot anyway. It's not like I had something and then lost it, I never knew any different."

"And your concept of family? You never looked around at the other children and wondered what it might be like? The mother figure is an essential archetype."

"I don't know, maybe I did at a young age. I don't remember it."

"What do you remember?"

"Having no money. A different school almost every year. My dad teaching me about engines. It wasn't all bad." Will shrugged.

Hannibal made a noise of agreement. "Young minds can be quick to accept their circumstances. We are also adept at finding pleasure in the simplest things. I’m not suggesting your childhood was uniformly miserable."

"It's when I learned to fish too. I've been doing it all my life."

"Your father taught you?"

"Yeah. Father and son stuff, I guess. I think- He wanted to give me something, something real I could use. He knew what the psychologists said about me. It was what he could do for me."

"Did he agree with them?"

There was a short silence before Will spoke again. "No, I don't think so. We didn't really talk about it, not openly. He knew I was different. But he probably thought they were reading too much into me. It wasn’t his idea to involve them."

Hannibal took a sip of wine, and said, "You spoke of feeling abandoned in our first session."

Will became aware of how closely they sat in the cavernous room, isolated together in a pool of lamplight. If he stretched his legs out he could touch Hannibal's foot with his own.

"By the doctors and social workers, yes. But not by him. He did his best for me. We might not have been emotionally very close but he was a good father in his own way. I learned a lot from him, not just fishing and fixing engines. I knew how he felt about me."

"But you felt, and still feel, alone." Hannibal looked at him as if he was daring him to deny it.

Will avoided his gaze. "Lots of people do."

"Do you think you're justified in those feelings, that you really are alone? Or is it a way you’ve learned to live and could unlearn?"

Will snorted. "Please tell me you’re not saying that if I just open my heart and trust people, it will solve all my problems? I thought better of you, Doctor."

Hannibal returned his laugh. "I’m saying that we are as alone as we choose to be. We just may not be honest with ourselves about what we actually want."

 

Will followed Hannibal's car as he drove to his house for dinner. It had become an unspoken understanding that Will would eat with him after his weekly appointment. Will knew Hannibal gave elaborate dinner parties but had never been invited to attend, something he occasionally wondered about. His relationship with Hannibal seemed to exist only in the private bubble they'd created. Will was fairly certain no one else knew about their regular appointments.

Entering Hannibal's house had its own rituals which mirrored those of his sessions. Hannibal would take Will's coat and then tell him to make himself comfortable. There would be another glass of wine, which Will found he was happy to enjoy but would never buy for himself at home. Hannibal, rolling up his sleeves and donning a crisp white apron, would explain his planned menu and ask if it suited Will. Will always went along with his suggestions without complaint.

Rather than sitting to watch Hannibal's effortless, practised movements in the kitchen Will had been drawn in to assist in minor ways. Hannibal was an excellent host and had politely rebuffed offers of help until Will had explained the awkwardness he felt, and how unused to being waited on he was. He was learning too, how to cook for pleasure instead of only necessity and thrift. He understood and enjoyed the the satisfaction of carrying out simple, manual tasks elegantly.

As Will stood at the counter, precisely dicing shallots, he said, "In that first session, you suggested there could be advantages in being thought unstable."

Hannibal paused in de-boning the chicken. "And now you've had some time to think it over."

"Yes." Will finished slicing and put the knife down. "You were right, sometimes it does serve me. If I feel like doing, or more usually, not doing something which others might expect me to do. I can ignore social norms. I deliberately act in a manner which keeps people at a distance. Even you've never invited me to one of your dinner parties and I've seen more of you over the past few weeks than I've seen of anyone in a long time."

After Will had finished speaking, Hannibal continued to regard him for a few moments. He seemed to think carefully before replying.

"I haven't invited you because I know you would not enjoy it. It would bore you. Your company is much more pleasurable to me like this," said Hannibal, simply.

For one long, bewildering moment Will felt a profound longing, aching behind his ribs, though he didn't really know what for. It lingered, and then ebbed back into hollowness. He picked up the knife again, looking for something else to chop or slice. Hannibal directed him towards a large bunch of fresh parsley.

"I hope you also prefer my company in the same manner," Hannibal continued. “I wouldn’t want you to think you were missing out on something.”

Will wasn't sure where to look then. He was paying attention to the slow, rhythmic action of his knife but he felt the weight of Hannibal's words settle on him and had an impulse to meet his eyes. He knew Hannibal was watching, gauging his reactions just like he always did, and yet he was also aware there was a question hanging in the air between them.

Will raised his eyes to meet Hannibal's. He seemed as solid and certain as always, though more informal here in his kitchen, with his rolled up sleeves and sure, easy movements. There was a hint of lingering warmth in his eyes, the corners crinkled slightly and inviting amusement.

"I don't think I'd enjoy your parties, no," Will agreed, a small smile breaking out on his face. He ducked his a head a moment and continued, nodding in agreement. "This is better."

 

After the main course, Will became aware of the extent to which he'd relaxed. His body felt looser, his mind lighter. There was an ease to sitting at the dinner table with Hannibal that he was only just beginning to appreciate fully. Initially he had put it down to the extremely good food and wine, but even his sessions were becoming less taxing. For whatever reason he found conversation with Hannibal easy, and rarer still, interesting.

"So, you think your parties would bore me. Is that because your guests are particularly dull, or..?" said Will with a teasing smile.

Hannibal leaned forward a little, as if to confide something. "I believe you would think them so."

"And you don't?"

"It's not their conversation individually I enjoy so much as the overall effect. Society is attractive to me. The play of personalities, politics, intrigues. So much to observe and enjoy."

"Oh I see, you play along but really it's entertainment. Not a very honourable thing to admit to, Doctor."

"It has been a recognised facet of society ever since there was such a thing. It has always had its onlookers, critics and commentators. There are many works of art which make it their subject."

"And which are you?"

"I attend mainly for my own private amusement, I admit that much."

"You’re correct, by the way. It doesn’t sound very amusing to me. So that's another benefit to being unstable identified. I get to avoid things that bore me and do only the things which don't. Are you trying to convince me that being unstable is a good thing?"

"You are not unstable and you're clearly beginning to believe that now," said Hannibal with a smile. "Is that true? Do you avoid things which bore you? If it is, I should be flattered."

Will laughed. "Where there is a choice, yes I suppose it is."

"And is there anything else you might be avoiding?"

Will picked up his wine glass and grinned. "This isn't one of my sessions, I don't have to answer that."

"You're very good at avoiding uncomfortable questions, I know that much. Dessert?"

 

Will insisted on helping Hannibal clear the table. In the kitchen, leaning against the counter with the remains of his wine in one hand, Will watched Hannibal turn out and garnish two perfect, miniature tarte tatins.

"If your parties are amusement, what is this?" Will asked. "Out of curiosity."

"All forms of company should be entertaining, this included. And I could ask you the same."

"It's - not boring," replied Will. He finished his wine as Hannibal slid a cup of coffee across the counter to him. "Now who's avoiding answering questions."

"We've confirmed neither of us are bored," continued Hannibal, taking a sip of his own coffee and smiling over at Will. "And that neither of us find each other boring."

Will watched him for a moment longer, before a sudden thought occurred to him. "Are you- _flirting_ with me, Hannibal?" he asked. Almost immediately, Will regretted it. He stared very hard at the patterns swirling in his coffee. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Blame it on the wine, I didn't eat enough at lunch."

When he raised his eyes, Hannibal didn't seem to have taken offence. He was looking at Will with open curiosity. Will fervently wished for the ground to swallow him whole. "Look, could we just forget I said that and carry on where we left off?"

"We could," agreed Hannibal. "A more compelling question would be to ask what would happen if we didn't."

Disbelief momentarily enveloped Will. His face was heating and he felt a stab of frustration. "I don't even know why I said that. It was just a silly comment."

Hannibal put his cup down and stepped a little closer, within touching distance now. "You said it because it was true. And you were enjoying yourself."

"But- How would that even-" Will paused and took a moment to collect himself. He turned his back on Hannibal briefly, feeling simultaneously more sober and more drunk than before. "You're my psychiatrist," was the best response he could think of. When he turned towards Hannibal again, he hadn’t moved and was simply waiting. "This is wrong, you know it is."

"Whatever happens between us is what we let happen. The nature of our relationship can change."

"It’s that simple, is it?” Will took a tiny step towards him. “Are you going to refer me?" 

"Do you wish me to?"

Will paused, tried to imagine going to a different office with someone else sat in the chair opposite. "No."

"What do you want to happen then, Will?"

Will leaned forward and kissed him. Hannibal inclined his head to accommodate but made few other encouragements. Will knew he was being tested and hated it. Out of nowhere, a desire sprung up to growl into Hannibal's mouth, to demand things of him, force away the pretence. Will fisted his hands in Hannibal's shirt, pulling him down against his mouth, dizzy with the need to prove himself and despising having to do it. Hannibal's hands came up to gently wrap around his biceps, thumbs tracing soothing patterns on his arms.

Eventually Will pulled back to say, "Don't stir me up and then treat me like that, Hannibal, I won't break."

Hannibal's mouth was wet and pink, and his breathing heavier, which Will felt some satisfaction over. He was still holding onto Will's arms. Slowly he backed Will up against the kitchen counter, his grip on Will growing tighter.

"You are not weak, no, but if you were to break it would be someone like me who might do it. Perhaps it's what you want? To stop hiding yourself, to be broken open and _seen_."

Will reached for him again, knowing his actions were instinctive and thoughtless. He'd crashed through all kinds of boundaries and was rushing headlong into something unknown, but couldn't find it in himself to want to turn back. His mouth met Hannibal's again, which this time opened against his, lips soft and teeth sharp. Hannibal's hands travelled up from his arms to tangle in his hair and cup his jaw. Something inside Will cracked a little and he felt a dangerous rush. It was glorious and frightening and knew that meant he should stop but the truth of Hannibal's words had seized him. He felt tired of trying so hard to do the right thing, to be normal. For a few moments he wanted to not care and to make his own rules and it was wonderful.

Hannibal prised Will's hands free of his shirt and pressed them back to the counter-top at his sides. Hannibal was leaning hard against him, fingers gentle but now firmly around Will's wrists, holding him down. Will flexed his fingers and found no give in Hannibal's grip. The sensation made his head swim and he all but moaned into Hannibal's mouth. He felt Hannibal smile and pulled back a little to look at him. Will almost couldn't square the man in front of him with the one he'd eaten dinner with. Hannibal seemed predatory, the strength in his lean torso obvious now he was caged in by it. Will ground his hips up against Hannibal's, the insistence of Hannibal's erection against his own making him breathless and increasingly desperate.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Hannibal's words whispered over his lips. "You're so tired of hiding."

"And you?" asked Will, breathing hard. "You've wanted this for some time. I see it now. Don't try to lie to me about that."

In reply, Hannibal growled into his mouth and roughly pulled open Will's fly. Will bit out a sharp curse, much too far gone to pretend he didn't want this as much as Hannibal obviously did.

"It's okay that you do. It shouldn't be but it is," Will groaned as Hannibal palmed his cock. "I don't know what happens later but right now, yes, this is what I want."

Hannibal kissed him again, hard and possessive, while his hand stroked Will firmly but slowly. He was still holding one of Will's wrists down on the counter. Hannibal pushed at it until Will's elbow bent and he could slide his hand behind his back. He briefly let go of Will's cock to yank his own fly open, pressing his forehead to Will's.

"Your other hand, behind your back also," Hannibal commanded, in a low voice.

Will obeyed before he even realised he had any other option. Hannibal wrapped his fingers tightly around both of his wrists and moved even closer, forcing Will's legs further open. If he struggled Will knew he could get away but he had no desire to. It was so freeing to just sit back and let this happen, to know it was all out of his control now.

Will watched greedily as Hannibal freed his cock and stroked it a couple of times. It was thick and uncut and when Hannibal smeared it's length with pre-come Will wanted to groan aloud. His own cock was almost painfully hard now, straining up towards his stomach. Hannibal lined up his own with Will’s and wrapped his large hand around them both. Will hissed as he thrust upwards, feeling the drag of sensitive skin against his own, and the gentle squeeze of Hannibal's slick fingers. He could feel Hannibal's eyes on his face, watching every fleeting expression pass over it, but he couldn't look away from the sight of Hannibal's hand, working them both hard.

Sensations began to crowd in on him; the sweet tight pressure around his cock, the wet slide of Hannibal's against his own, the ache of his arms trapped behind him, Hannibal's breaths ghosting across his face. He shut his eyes, knowing the end was rushing towards him all too fast. Hannibal didn't falter and kept the same punishing pace until Will was seeing spots, coming harder than he'd ever done before. Hannibal kissed him through it and quickly followed him over, panting into his mouth.

They remained there for a few moments, pressed tight together. Hannibal released his wrists and kissed him again, lingering softly over his mouth. Will had expected awkwardness but there was nothing, just a great soothing quiet space inside himself. Hannibal's touch was gentled now, stroking his thumb over his cheek, his jaw. He didn't want to break the silence, just to remain here and maybe lean his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Anything that would leave that quiet, still lake inside him undisturbed.

After some time he heard Hannibal say, "Unfortunately, we cannot stay here forever, Will."

Will realised his eyes were closed, forehead on Hannibal's chest. He opened his eyes and pulled back to look at him, squinting a little.

"I know we're going to have to talk about this, but could we not do it right this second?"

"How about we have dessert first?"

Will snorted a laugh into Hannibal's shoulder. Everything was the same but it also wasn't. He was grateful for that.

Hannibal handed him a linen napkin and he went to clean up in the bathroom. When he returned, he found both Hannibal and dessert in the living room.

Hannibal waited until he'd had a mouthful of newly made coffee, and asked, "Do you still feel the same about being referred?"

"Even if you did refer me this would still be wrong, so I don't see how it makes much difference. We can’t undo the fact that I have been your patient."

"Our sessions now are entirely between the two of us. There are no records of any of our meetings since I signed you off."

"Very convenient." Will raised an eyebrow and started on his tarte tatin.

"As you requested," reminded Hannibal.

"I didn't say it was only convenient for one of us."

"What would you like to happen next?"

"I want to continue."

Hannibal sat back comfortably in his chair. "Continue?"

"Yes. With everything." Will looked up, took in Hannibal, his calm expression, his assured posture, and thought back to how he'd been only fifteen minutes ago. "All of it."

Hannibal gave him a small, slow smile that only faintly echoed his earlier predatory demeanour. When he saw Will to the door later, his only comment was, "Until next week, Will."


	2. Chapter 2

"This is weird, I don't think I can do this." Will got up and walked over to the bookshelves, stopping abruptly at the ladder to the upper floor.

Hannibal remained seated but Will knew he was being watched closely. “Can you be specific?”

"Coming here and pretending to be therapist and client." Will gestured at the room. "It- it's false."

"You object to the setting rather than to the content of our conversions?"

"I think our conversations would be more honest elsewhere." Will held Hannibal’s gaze steadily.

Hannibal rose and picked up his jacket. "Then why don't we continue over dinner?"

 

In Hannibal's kitchen, Will found he couldn’t sit still and resorted to pacing around the room. "Why did you agree to see me? Out of hours, unpaid? It can't be just because of-" Will waved his hand at himself and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "There are much easier ways to pick people up."

Hannibal looked up from the chopping board. "I was curious about you, it's as simple as that. And if you had wanted to become my client _officially_ then you would have been. I thought I could help you find what you're looking for. I still do."

Will went to sit again and fidgeted with his wine glass. "Unofficial meant that it was just conversations, just talking. Not personal but not professional either. A grey area."

"Have we left the grey area where you feel comfortable?"

Will have a sudden, slightly bitter laugh. "I think most people would say we're so far into the grey area we may never find our way out again." He sighed and took a sip of wine. "It's just too... theatrical. Your office. The chairs. If we're going to continue whatever this is, let's do it here."

Hannibal smiled. "Then I shall expect you for dinner every Wednesday at 7.30."

Will relaxed a little. "And after dinner?"

"Our unofficial session will have officially ended, and we will be free to spend the remainder of the evening however we see fit." Hannibal took off his apron and moved to where Will sat. "Does that meet with your approval?"

There was a pause while Will met his gaze. Hannibal watched as Will's fingers clenched reflexively on the chair arm.

"Yes, it does," Will replied softly.

 

After dinner, Hannibal accepted Will's offer to help with clearing away. Will was about to go pour the coffee when Hannibal crowded him up against the doorframe. There a split-second where Will thought he might bolt. Hannibal leaned down over him, getting as close as he could without actually touching. Will's breathing grew audible in the small space between them. When Will reached for him, Hannibal acquiesced and kissed him, slowly but thoroughly. The illicit feel of Hannibal’s tongue sliding against his own made him reckless.

Hannibal pulled back and whispered into Will's mouth, "How far would you like this to go?"

"Tonight, or in general? I don't know. Further than this." He rocked upwards a little, to press his hardness into Hannibal's. "This is a grey area I feel comfortable with."

"And if you didn't feel comfortable? Would you tell me?"

Will swallowed. "Are you expecting me to not be?"

Hannibal pressed back, leaning his weight more fully into Will. "Perhaps. Does that bother you?"

"It would depend which kind of uncomfortable." A pause. "No. It doesn't bother me." Will bit at his bottom lip. "If I object I'll let you know."

"Good, that is agreed." Hannibal took hold of Will's shoulders, turned him around and then pushed him forward against the wall. He leant down to breathe into his ear. "And we will talk more about that later. For now, we will start slowly."

Will let go of an unsteady breath which warmed the space between his face and the wall. "Oh. Right. We're actually doing this, aren't we?" Over the past week, he’d thought often about what had already happened between them and what else might. It almost hadn’t seemed real. 

Hannibal reached around Will to unbuckle his belt. He placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck and said, "You only have to ask me to stop and I will," then began to unfasten his jeans. "And there are many things I won't do without your explicit permission. At least not at first." Hannibal tugged down Will's jeans and underwear just far enough to expose his ass.

"Christ." Will leaned his forehead on the wall. He found he was standing braced against it, palms flat and at shoulder height, legs slightly spread. He couldn't remember positioning himself like that. Like he'd been arrested and was expecting to be patted down. He choked down hysterical laughter and instead asked, "What kind of things?"

From behind him came the unmistakeable sound of Hannibal unfastening his own clothing. "For example, I wouldn't deliberately cause you pain or hurt you."

"But you would if I asked, if I gave permission? You would like that?" Will wasn't as surprised about this statement as he supposed he should be.

“Yes, very much,” Hannibal said in a low voice, very close to his ear. 

Will started when he felt Hannibal grasp his ass and squeeze slightly. There was the ghost of a breath on the back of his neck. Will shut his eyes when he felt something cool and wet rubbed in between his cheeks. "Wait, I've never gone that far before, I don't think-".

"Very good, Will." Hannibal sounded pleased. He mouthed at the back of Will’s neck, and ran his tongue gently over the tip of his ear. "Now I am sure I can trust you to speak up if you are uneasy,” he said, still spreading slickness over Will. “Don't worry, that's not what I had planned."

Another kiss to the back of his neck, while Hannibal stroked soothingly over his ass. Will let out another loud breath, and relaxed out of a tension he hadn't been aware he was holding.

Will's thoughts seemed to stall entirely when Hannibal's hand slid up over his hip to grasp his cock. Will thrust into Hannibal's hand, and Hannibal moved forward to press himself against Will's back. Will felt the length of Hannibal's cock slide wetly up to rest in between his cheeks. The back of Will's sweater and t-shirt were pushed up, and then pulled over his head, so they were trapped around his arms and chest, leaving his back exposed. Hannibal mouthed at his shoulder and leaned further into him, one hand braced on the wall next to Will's head, the other still jerking Will's cock in a steady, twisting rhythm.

Will was breathing harshly now. His thoughts skittered to how Hannibal had said he would enjoy hurting him, but couldn’t settle there; it was almost too much to think about. He could feel the heat of Hannibal's body against his exposed skin. His hard, hot cock was thick against his ass and the hair of his chest tickled between his shoulderblades. Hannibal must have unbuttoned his shirt Will realised, a stray detail which brought the reality of what was happening back to him. Pushed against the wall in Hannibal's kitchen, clothes in disarray, arranged perfectly so that Hannibal could rut against him. He moaned loudly at the thought, and pushed back against Hannibal, who growled and ground back hard in response.

"God," Will moaned again. Hannibal’s hand stilled but remained fisted around his cock so Will had to move his hips to gain any friction, which resulted in Will pushing his ass back along Hannibal's cock. He felt it rub thickly over his opening, making him gasp, his mind racing. It was so good, just this on its own. Will felt hot all over, like his skin was too tight to contain him. He could imagine Hannibal fucking him like this, holding him down, pushing his cock inside him relentlessly, keeping him in place.

"Very good," Hannibal praised in his ear. "Just like that. Did you know how lovely you are when you let go like this? So very desperate and yet you haven't asked me once to give you more than I have."

Will made a choked noise, at once crazily aroused and embarrassed by Hannibal's words. He tried to care about what it might mean but instead found himself wondering how Hannibal might hurt him if he asked for it. He was trapped in Hannibal's embrace, yet Hannibal was not actually holding him at all. Perhaps if he struggled, Hannibal would stop him, force him to stay, bite down on his shoulder where his mouth was...

Will came suddenly and loudly, panting open-mouthed. Hannibal growled again and thrust up hard along Will's skin until he too came, wet and hot over his back. Will sagged back into Hannibal, who shifted to take Will's weight and lazily began kissing his jawline and cheek. Will hummed a little sigh, unwilling to turn around and return to reality.

"You enjoyed that," observed Hannibal, voice quiet and a little rough. "All of it. And I would love to know more about the mysterious thoughts I saw racing around your mind.”

Will turned his head so he could see Hannibal’s face again, and receive a long slow kiss for the trouble. He felt more awkward this time, like he’d disturbed something inside himself which he didn’t yet feel ready to face. He pulled his jeans back up, suddenly needing to be less exposed.

"I should go home. I need a shower and definitely some rest-"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist you stay here tonight. You will get rest here." Will opened his mouth to interrupt but Hannibal continued. "If you really object you may stay in the guest room. I understand if you require a measure of distance. And if you don't wish to talk, we shan't."

“Fine, lead me to your shower." Will attempted to sound light-hearted but it came off more brittle than intended. He allowed Hannibal to turn him fully around and sighed. His legs were shaky and he felt scraped raw. Hannibal adjusted his clothing but said nothing further.

The bitingly hot water helped somewhat, lessening the prickled, shivery sensation in his skin. Will had been irrationally afraid that Hannibal would want to join him but only showed him to the guest bathroom and left, something Will was grateful for. The white noise of the spray helped settle his thoughts and Will allowed them to drift. The push and pull of his desires and worries was too much to take in, and instead it felt easier to succumb to sleepiness.

The thought of sleeping alone but with Hannibal so close by had been oddly disquieting. Will determined to make for Hannibal's bedroom but by the time he reached the doorway some of his apprehension returned. The room was spacious and decorated in deep colours, and even more suggestive of hidden richnesses than the rest of the house. The effect was almost overwhelming, bringing back to his mind the thoughts he'd tried to set aside until morning.

Hannibal was sitting up in bed, wearing dark pyjamas which stood out among the crisp white sheets. Will was wearing his t-shirt and underwear. He suddenly felt how small and scruffy and entirely out of place he must seem. His uncertainty must have been as clear as day to Hannibal, who smiled warmly and patted the mattress next to him. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Will went to him, and tried very hard to regain his equilibrium as he lay down next to Hannibal. The raw, scraped feeling had returned. Hannibal curled around him, and said, "You gave me a lot tonight, I don't think you realise just how much.”

“Didn't seem to me like I did a lot. I just stood there.” Will shifted to accommodate Hannibal, who wrapped an arm around him. Will silently noted the action as another boundary crossed, and wondered if he should worry that he found the idea of Hannibal biting him easier to accept than this.

“It was a very intimate experience and you placed a large amount of trust in me, which is particularly difficult for you. Also you've had a whole week to think about what has happened between us. I knew you'd feel unsettled, which is why I insisted you stay. That and my own selfish reasons, of course."

Will felt a knot of tension relent somewhat. “You sound like my psychiatrist,” he said, with a crooked smile. "I'm sorry if I was... prickly, before dinner. Though you should expect that by now." He shifted to move closer, and Hannibal pulled him in against his chest.

"I find your company delightful, even when you are prickly." Will gave him an arch, unbelieving look. Hannibal continued, "It's true, I wouldn't want you to think otherwise."

Will yawned. “Let's just agree that I believe you when you say don't find me boring.”

He was so tired, and began to relax almost against his will. Lying in bed with Hannibal now seemed much easier than when he was standing in the middle of the room. He could deal with his feelings in the morning, after some sleep.

“Go to sleep, Will. Right now there is nothing to worry about."

It was unbelievably easy for Will to do just that. He woke early, out of a light sleep, immediately conscious he was not in his own bed. The light was pale and lemon-coloured, obviously not long after sunrise. Hannibal was asleep next to him, hair mussed and face soft. Will settled back into the pillows and watched him. He was very still, breathing quiet and even. Will could imagine him sleeping soundly like this, every night. The thought made his heart clench a little, that Hannibal could be lying here exactly the same, regardless of whether Will was next to him or not.

He didn't remember falling back to sleep but when he woke next he was alone. The faint noises he could hear from downstairs and the distinct scent of coffee were reassuring. Hannibal was in the kitchen. Of course. He found his clothes, rumpled and not the cleanest but they would have to do, and went downstairs.

Hannibal was sat at the counter, sipping coffee and reading on his tablet. Will sat next to him. A soft smile came over Hannibal's face and he reached up to caress Will's cheek before kissing him. "Good morning," he said. "I hope you slept well?" and then immediately set about ensuring Will had the best breakfast he'd had in years. Everything was precisely as crisp and hot and soft and salty as it should be. It was much simpler than other meals he'd eaten with Hannibal. They ate in the kitchen and talked very little. Will felt surprisingly at ease.

At last Will spoke. "I think I prefer this. Almost no theatrics at all."

"Almost?"

Will pointed at the elaborate coffee maker. "What do you call that?"

"It's not there only for aesthetic reasons. And I haven't heard you complain about the coffee it makes." Hannibal protested laughingly. "You seem much more at home here this morning. I like it."

"I started to wonder how many people have seen you as you were last night. Quite a different man to what most may expect. And I think I only got a glimpse."

"Perhaps," said Hannibal. "What did you think?"

Will thought carefully about how to answer. "I think that whatever this is between us it's not typical. I think I'm curious about what it might be. And I think I'd like to see more, though I don't really know what that means."

"Another grey area?"

"I suppose, yes."

"Does it excite you?"

Will felt his face heat and put his coffee cup down. "Yes," he managed. Hannibal reached across to lay a hand on his arm, and stroked his thumb lightly along the skin of his wrist.

"The only other people who have seen me the same way do not know me in any other context. They know nothing about me beyond what I deliberately showed them."

"Isn't that true of us all?"

"People are not as careful as you imagine. Even myself, not all the time. It's only really necessary when we believe we have something to conceal."

"Would you call that hiding?"

"My desires are, as you have observed, not typical but I am not ashamed of them. It would be better to say that it wouldn't be polite to share them with a wider audience. I also have other, more ordinary desires, which don't always mix well. For friendship, companionship, affection."

"Okay, not hiding,” agreed Will. “But there was something very honest about you last night."

"Maybe so. What about you? Did you feel more honest? Closer to a truer version of yourself?"

Will didn't know what to say to that, so instead he commented, “These other people you mentioned… you’ve obviously done this before. I wondered about that. ”

Hannibal turned his hand over and slid his palm against Will’s. “I didn’t make any of them breakfast the next morning. It wasn’t that kind of arrangement.”

“Oh.” Will didn’t know if that was better or worse. He was filled with a burning curiosity however, to know exactly what Hannibal had shown them and if it was different to what he’d seen. He wanted to ask but couldn’t think how to. “I suppose I should be grateful that at least one of us knows what they’re doing.”

“Every situation is different, Will. But yes, I have experience in sexual dominance and sadomasochism, if that is what you are asking.”

“Oh fuck.” Will covered his face with his hands. “Are we really talking about this now? I feel I should really have a drink - _several_ drinks, actually - while we do.”

“You seemed to wish it. I think openness might be better, and you implied you valued my ‘honesty’.”

Will glared at him through his fingers and took a deep breath. “Fine. These other people you mentioned - whatever they got, I want too.”

Hannibal watched him silently, expression inscrutable.

“We’re already on this path. I want to know what’s at the end of it,” said Will.

“You are at the beginning of something, exploring. They came to me already knowing what they wanted. There is a difference.”

“Then help me understand.” Will arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that why I wanted to see you in the first place?”

Hannibal smiled a little, and leaned forward to kiss Will chastely on the lips. “If you are sure, then of course I will. How about Saturday, a little earlier than usual. Six o clock?”

 

Later, Will's phone buzzed with a message from Hannibal.

_"You should think of a word you won't forget, to let me know if you want to stop. Your meaning will need to be unmistakable to me, no matter what else you might say during our time together."_

Another followed shortly after.

_"This is important, you must do this before Saturday."_

Will texted back immediately, before he could chicken out.

_"Ten-twelve."_

Another message followed soon after.

_"Are you sure? You didn't take very long to think."_

_"It was from when I was a cop. Code for stop. You don’t forget things like that."_

_“Very well. See you Saturday, Will.”_

 

Comfortably sat on the porch that evening, with a tumbler of whisky and several napping dogs, Will tried to order his thoughts. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this with Hannibal at all yet the only thing he could focus on was how he had felt when Hannibal held him down, how his thoughts had raced when he did so. How he had felt when Hannibal had used the phrase ‘sexual dominance and sadomasochism’. Embarrassed and aroused and desperate to know more. He scrubbed at his face and considered getting another drink.

He would find out on Saturday, he told himself. There was no need to think about it before then. Except he couldn't not, as images kept presenting themselves to him unasked for, of the things he'd fantasised about while Hannibal had pressed him up against the wall and- _god- used_ _him_. Of being held down and fucked, made to take it, Hannibal biting him. Restless, he downed the remaining whisky and went to take a shower.

Under the spray, Will leaned his forehead on the cool tiles. It was easier to think while enclosed in the cubicle, shut off from the rest of the world, with only the white noise of the water echoing in his ears. He'd briefly considered searching out some porn on the internet, to see if this was only because of Hannibal or something he wanted regardless. But he knew it would predominantly be pictures of men in PVC and leather, and connecting that with Hannibal had just made him laugh. It seemed so unlikely. All Hannibal had needed had been himself, just as he was.

The only thing he knew was that it didn't matter if it was a good idea or not, he wanted, _needed_ , to see this through. He had to know. He'd been on the brink of arousal all day, hyper-aware of his body, of the places last touched by Hannibal. And jealous too, irrationally so, of the anonymous others Hannibal had spoken of. He couldn't explain it but he felt almost as if they were undeserving. That they might not have been caused a twisting, sick feeling in his gut. He firmly pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

Instead he focused on Hannibal as he had been the night before - calm, focused on Will, controlling with a hint of something more dangerous. He palmed his cock, heavy now, and let himself lean into that sensation he'd experienced, of being simultaneously trapped and displayed by Hannibal. It had felt exposing, almost humiliating, Hannibal using him and then praising him for it. Will began to stroke himself, leaning against the tiles, watching his hand as it fisted up and down his cock. He moaned aloud, to see how it would feel to hear himself, on his own. The falling water pressed the sound back in on him, dampening the echo, and it seemed strangely intimate in the small space. He could imagine Hannibal behind him all too easily, watching, knowing what he was jerking off to. He moaned again and spread his legs a little, thought about what Hannibal might do if he was here.

He turned around and pressed his back against chilly ceramic. His cock bobbed stiffly against his stomach, the weight of it insistent. He tipped his head back and shut his eyes, and still thinking of Hannibal watching, brought his other hand up to gently cup his balls as he stroked himself. He slowed to a teasing pace, unwilling to finish so soon and also caught up in the idea of playing with himself at Hannibal's request. 

The thought sent a wave of arousal through him. What did Hannibal have planned for their meeting on Saturday? He knew he could imagine any scenario vividly, knew enough about Hannibal that he felt reasonably confident it would be realistic. But Hannibal himself was still opaque to him. He gave so little away and his control was formidable. Will groaned, thinking of that forceful personality directed solely at himself. Maybe he'd tie him up? Fuck him? Tease him and leave him begging? He gasped harshly, and set to jerking himself at a punishing pace, thinking of Hannibal's hand. Would he ask Hannibal to hurt him? Did he really want him to?

Will came suddenly, shuddering and panting for air. He felt unsteady and ungrounded for a moment, he'd been so caught up in his head. He opened his eyes, the impassive and empty room almost shocking in its silence. He washed his hair and prepared for sleep absently, part of him still with Hannibal. When he climbed into bed, he could almost feel the warm, steady heartbeat next to him, and fell asleep thinking about the cage of Hannibal's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ten codes’ were commonly used by police until recently - meanings tended to vary over different jurisdictions, causing communication issues. Ironic, no? If anyone is interested, here [is the list I used](http://everets.org/kevin/ten-codes.php).
> 
> And in case you haven’t delighted in making fun of Hannibal’s coffee-maker like Will, here’s [your chance](http://eattherude.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/twitter-hannibals-coffee-maker.html).


	3. Chapter 3

Will had carefully avoided examining his feelings as he prepared for his meeting with Hannibal. He’d decided that he needed to do this but that didn't stop the roiling churn of emotions in his stomach. He approached the evening with the calm one might await finding out important test results. Whatever came out of tonight would be dealt with later.

He had dressed more attentively than usual, though his efforts were so subtle no one other than Hannibal would likely notice. On the drive over he tried to avoid catching glimpses of himself in the mirror, in case too much of his inner state was magnified back at himself.

Hannibal answered the door in his customary fashion, a perfect balance of politely welcoming and genuinely warm. Will was slightly wrong-footed for a moment, and realised his expectations were all wrong. Of course Hannibal would appear no different than usual.

Inside, Hannibal took his jacket and kissed him on the cheek before asking, "You look nervous. Is this really such an ordeal?"

Will tried to make a cynical joke, "Why don’t you tell me?" It sounded false and defensive, even to his own ears. Will looked at the wall. "Sorry. Yes, I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect from you therefore I don't know how to feel."

"You rely on external cues and arrange your emotions accordingly. Where is the honesty that you were so keen to encourage in me?" Hannibal smiled and placed a hand on the centre of Will's chest, over his heart. "You have nothing to fear. All you need to do is concentrate on each moment, and decide if you wish to take the next step. Come with me, I have something to show you."

Hannibal led Will through the kitchen to the door which led to his basement. Will knew he kept his wine there, he'd seen Hannibal return with a bottle on a dozen occasions. Hannibal opened the door and switched on the light below. Will could see a flight of polished dark wood steps leading downwards, and raised an eyebrow at Hannibal.

"To truly experience what the others did, you will need to see what secrets I keep down here among the wine,” Hannibal said with some humour. “Would you like to descend, Will?"

In answer, Will sighed and took a few steps downwards. Hannibal followed, and at the bottom directed Will away from the wine racks and larder shelves, towards another door standing alone in the far wall. At a inviting glance from Hannibal, Will opened it.

A laugh of relief escaped him. "For a moment there I started to expect the worst. Not that I could really picture you in an environment that was anything less than... " Will gestured to the room he was now standing in, which could easily be a well-appointed guest room if it hadn't been tucked behind Hannibal’s wine collection in the basement. It was plush and carefully decorated in the deep colours favoured by Hannibal, looking much like the rest of his house although slightly more anonymous. There was a bed in the centre, a couple of comfortable chairs, a desk and a wall of fitted wardrobes.

Hannibal looked amused and Will relaxed considerably. Over the past few days he’d repeatedly considered shutting the door on his new-found desires. He’d been taken by surprise at how much he’d enjoyed this with Hannibal and how quickly it had happened. To stand in this room with the full knowledge of why he was here and what he wanted from Hannibal was thrilling. 

"I see you feared something more salacious. My past participants didn’t see much of my house and certainly never my bedroom. I found it simpler to keep things separate, which is why I have this room."

Will walked around the bed, taking in his surroundings. "Right. So... I'm a grey area for you too?" He leant down to run his fingers over the coverlet.

"Yes, you could say that. I think we both will have something to learn from this evening."

Will let that sink in and looked over to Hannibal. "Okay, I'm ready. How does this start?"

Smiling, Hannibal said, "To begin with I will give you instructions. Tell me your safeword, please."

"Ten-twelve." It came out somewhat hoarsely and Will resisted the temptation to wet his lips.

"Good. Do not be concerned about needing to use it - if you do you will not disappoint me or forfeit any right to my company. That's not what this is about." Hannibal went over to another door in the corner, which was standing open. Will followed and saw a shower room. "Firstly, I'd like you to shower. Not because I find you anything less than presentable, that is not the reason behind my request. I have provided products which I would like you to use. There's no need for you to get redressed afterwards. I will be upstairs, just message me when you are ready."

Hannibal turned to him then and kissed him, slowly and gently, briefly teasing his tongue into Will’s mouth. It was over in seconds but Will felt the promise behind it.

Once Hannibal had gone, Will undressed and neatly set his clothes aside. The products Hannibal had left for him were in tasteful, non-descript packaging - shampoo, shower gel, conditioner - and had only very subtle, lingering scents. Will could easily imagine Hannibal using the same ones though he didn't recognise them from when he'd used Hannibal's shower. On the whole it was like being in an upscale, discreet hotel bathroom.

The shower itself was predictably good, and Will remained longer than he intended under the spray. His nerves were dissipating and he was increasingly confident he was going to enjoy this. He looked down at himself, and thought about what Hannibal saw in him, what he might desire to do to him. He touched himself experimentally - not hard yet but he could feel his latent arousal, just waiting to be brought out into the open. He made himself stop.

Out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a towel and caught his reflection in the mirror. Flushed from the hot water, wet curls, his mouth pink and slightly open. Perhaps this soft vulnerability was what Hannibal had wanted. Will could picture him, patiently waiting in the kitchen, reading his tablet. He picked up his phone and sent a message to Hannibal, " _Ready_."

Hannibal appeared in less than a minute. He picked up a spare towel and gently rubbed at Will's wet hair, watching him with that intense gaze. Will waited for him to say something but Hannibal remained silent, cupping Will's cheek, before sliding his hand down over his neck and leaning in for another kiss.

Will kissed him back eagerly, much more sure of himself now. Hannibal abandoned the towel he was holding and pushed Will back against the wall. Will felt a jolt as he hit the wall and gasped into Hannibal's mouth. The kiss became harsher as Hannibal took control, cradling Will's face in both hands. Hannibal withdrew briefly to yank Will's towel off and roughly palm his cock. A soft noise escaped Will's lips, as much at the determined look on Hannibal's face as at the sensation. His hips bucked against Hannibal's touch.

"On the bed, please. Face down," was all Hannibal said. Will was transfixed, he had expected Hannibal to retain more of his distance, but his composure had slipped already. He was breathing hard and clearly holding himself in check. Will did as he was told.

A moment passed. Will didn't move, feeling that he should wait until given further instruction. After another moment he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently probing, while another took his arm and flexed it, testing the range of movement. "Ideally I would check your medical notes about this injury," Hannibal noted. "It wouldn't do for me to cause any unintended repercussions. You will tell me if it begins to feel uncomfortable, please, and as soon as that happens. Do not delay."

The hands stilled and there was a pause. Will realised belatedly Hannibal was waiting for a response before continuing. "Understood," he breathed into the pillows.

"Good." Hannibal left the bed then and Will heard the sliding of the fitted wardrobe doors. He shifted slightly, feeling the air cooling on his still damp skin. Will did not hear Hannibal return, it was only when he grasped Will's wrist to fasten something around them that he realised he was right behind him. Will moved them experimentally, testing, and felt biting metal against his skin. Will felt a jolt of arousal - he was naked and cuffed on the bed, hands restrained behind his back.

Will tilted his head to one side to seek out Hannibal. He wanted to see the effect his appearance had on Hannibal, rather than to be reassured by eye contact or body language. He knew he was on display, submissively waiting, and the knowledge he liked it was dizzying. 

Hannibal was indeed studying him closely, noting and cataloguing his reactions. Will could also see the greedy sweep of Hannibal's gaze over his exposed body, the tell of a tiny twitch of his fingers, as well as his now obvious hardness. Will thought back to the last time, with Hannibal's heavy cock dragging over his entrance, and swallowed a gasp of desire. He shifted against the sheets, partly to rub at his rapidly hardening cock, and partly in invitation.

Hannibal leaned over him them, one hand gently squeezing his ass, the other brushing his damp hair away from his ear. "Remarkable boy. I've barely even begun but your mind does so much of the work for me. I believe I could train you so that I only need to say a word for you to reach this state." Will gave a small moan. Hannibal continued, "However you are moving much too quickly, you need to be kept in line." And with that Hannibal brought his hand down hard onto Will's ass cheek with a stinging slap.

Will let out a harsh noise, mainly of surprise. Hannibal did it again on the same spot, even harder this time. The sound rang obscenely in the hush of the room. Again. Will gasped aloud and struggled to collect his thoughts. To be restrained and spanked by Hannibal seemed almost shocking in it's clichéd appeal. His ass was smarting now, he imagined how it must look, reddening under Hannibal hand.

Will shut his eyes and tried to let go, but somehow it wasn't enough. He began to feel creeping tendrils of humiliation. Not only was he being spanked like a naughty child but he needed more than this. Was Hannibal waiting for him to ask, or was this all he deserved from him? Nevertheless, he was fully hard now, the repeated slaps had building into a burning sensation. He gasped after each new strike and tried to refrain from rutting against the bed. Longing welled up in Will, though he didn't know what for, just an overriding need for more. He fought against it irrationally, unwilling and unable to vocalise what he wanted. Instead he moaned into the pillows and pulled against the cuffs, and the sensation of being unable to free himself only intensified his need. 

Hannibal paused briefly to run his fingers over his sensitised skin, and then deliberately dug his nails in and dragged downwards. Will yelped then, with something close to relief. Hannibal began spanking again but stopped once or twice to use his nails. Will's ass cheeks were burning, his arousal growing continually. When Hannibal used his nails he kept going and ran them down over the back of his thighs, Will nearly arched off the bed. The skin there was delicate and untouched, and he could feel the trails of hot, raw scratches which Hannibal had left in his wake.

"Open your legs now," Hannibal instructed, climbing onto the bed behind Will, his hands now holding possessively onto Will's thighs. Will obeyed and gave a small moan at how utterly exposed he was. He could feel wetness on his belly from his cock, had seen enough porn to know what he must look like to Hannibal right now.

"Very nice." Hannibal was leaning over him, examining him, so close Will could feel his breath on his burning skin. Will shut his eyes and imagined being fucked like this, unable to move effectively, having to lie there and take it. He realised he wanted that so much, wanted Hannibal to do that to him. He supposed he should be surprised at himself but now he was here it seemed so obvious. Instead he felt Hannibal's nails again, scratching down over the insides of his thighs, and then his hot tongue sweeping broad and flat over Will's ass cheek. Hannibal's mouth on him felt so good. Will groaned and tried to resist pushing himself back into him and begging for more. He wanted that, wanted Hannibal's mouth on him, but he also wanted what Hannibal had promised him.

"Would you like to come, Will?"

The question crystallised Will's thoughts in a split second. Will twisted to look over his shoulder at Hannibal. He looked far gone, pupils blown wide, breathing fast and shallow.

"No. Not yet," he said with certainty.

Hannibal was obviously surprised, but he smoothed his expression over while he considered Will.

"What did the others get? I know it was more than this, I want you to show me."

Hannibal laid a hand on the small of his back. "Pain is individual. It meant something different to each of them, often a blend of emotional, psychological or physical factors."

"What about you? What do you like to give?" Will asked.

"It is my role to provide what the subject needs."

"Just answer the question. What would you give me, Hannibal?"

Hannibal looked fractionally taken aback. "I remain in control so you can let go. That means I must sometimes stop you. Your body is flooded with adrenaline, you feel you could continue for hours like this, chasing greater and greater sensation. Whereas right now you are in fact very close to the edge."

Frustration grew in Will, almost desperate now. "No, I want more, I-" Will paused while he searched for a way to explain. "It's mine to have, Hannibal, I don’t know how else to explain it. Are you going to deny me that?"

The words rang out louder than he'd intended and the silence after was a long one. Hannibal was regarding him with burning eyes. Will read a moment of indecision on his face, then without warning, Hannibal bit down on Will's ass, deep and hard. Will cried out and then groaned, rolling his hips into the bed and his hands grappling uselessly behind his back for something to hold onto. When Will looked over his shoulder again, Hannibal's expression was wild and unfettered, his lips drawn back in a snarl. Hannibal pressed his mouth to the bite and lathed his tongue over it. Then he unfastened one of Will's cuffs.

"Get on your knees, hold on to the headboard." Hannibal's voice was rough now, and Will thrilled at the sound of it. He could sense the ragged edges where Hannibal was holding himself together, filling him with a terrible, wonderful anticipation. Will flexed his shoulders and shuffled up the bed. He was shaking and realised Hannibal had been right when he told Will he was at his limit. Hannibal refastened the cuffs, looping the chain through the slatted headboard so Will was held fast.

Hannibal went to the wardrobe again while Will waited, trembling with need. From across the room, Hannibal spoke in the same rough voice as before. "You wanted to know what I would give you. What I want is my mark on you, I want you to think of this moment a week from now when you see yourself in a mirror. I want you to understand what you asked for."

Hannibal came up behind him. "Eyes forward please. You will concentrate on receiving this, I want you to focus." With that, there was a swishing sound and Will felt a burning hot stripe of pain straight across his ass. He was left panting, struggling to get enough air. As the burning sensation receded Will could feel the tightness in his skin already. Hannibal had made sure he would leave him with a welt, right where he'd sit down. Hannibal stroked his hand over it, before withdrawing and repeating the action over the same spot. Will cried out again, pain blossoming sharp and pure. He could hear Hannibal breathing heavily behind him. Will rested his forehead against the headboard and moaned. He was so close, his untouched cock heavy between his legs and leaking wetness.

Hannibal leaned over him, and spoke in his ear. "One more. Are you ready?" And then struck him again before he could answer, leaving Will gasping. This time it landed higher than the other two, no doubt deliberately leaving a clearly defined mark. Will's body couldn't decide if it wanted to cringe away from the sensation or arch back into it and Will was left writhing against the headboard.

Will felt the bed dip as Hannibal climbed up behind him and heard him unzip his trousers. Hannibal knelt behind him, leaning over Will, mouthing at his shoulder and neck while reaching for his cock. Will groaned with need and Hannibal began to jerk him off with rough, punishing strokes. It felt so good, the many sensations around him beginning to coalesce into one whole - his tender ass against which Hannibal's own cock rubbed, Hannibal's heavy weight across his back, wrists sore from pulling at his restraints, and the persistent pull of Hannibal's fist around his cock. He could barely speak, didn't recognise the sounds that were coming out of his mouth.

When Hannibal bit down on the muscle of his neck, Will shuddered and came loudly, spurting thickly over himself, the bed and Hannibal's hand. Hannibal growled, and began to fist his cock hard behind Will, rubbing his fingers through the mess on Will's chest with the other hand. Will felt him come then, all over his stinging ass. The last thing he remembered before he shut his eyes was Hannibal resting his forehead on his back, panting against his skin.

 

When Will opened his eyes again he found himself cradled in Hannibal's arms, head resting on his chest. He was no longer cuffed and Hannibal must have cleaned them both up, though he couldn't remember it. He dimly noted the wrecked state of the bed. Hannibal was propped up against the pillows, still almost fully dressed. His face was soft, he looked profoundly peaceful and happy. Will smiled up at him, wide and genuine. All his struggle seemed to have evaporated and he felt utterly at peace.

"How do you feel?" asked Hannibal softly.

Will considered. "Hungry."

Hannibal gave a low laugh. "I can help with that," he said but continued to gaze at Will like there was something further he wished to say.

"That was quite the experience. Did you feed the others, afterwards?" Will asked, and watched the tiniest flicker of annoyance pass across Hannibal's face, quickly to be replaced by resignation.

"It would have been remiss of me not to provide adequate recovery space and sustenance." Hannibal paused, and began to card his fingers through Will's hair, untangling his now dry curls gently. "If you must continue to compare your experiences with those who've gone before you in an attempt to feed your unfounded jealousy, you're going to be sorely disappointed. It cannot be the same with you as it was with them, this is something entirely other. And as new to me as it is to you."

Will silently took this statement in, and nodded in response. Hannibal gathered him closer, still stroking his hair, and they lay there comfortably for a while, not speaking.

Finally, Hannibal roused them both. He made Will turn over so he could inspect his skin, then brought out a small medical kit from the bedside table. Will raised an eyebrow at him as he watched Hannibal pull on disposable gloves. "One of the many benefits of choosing a doctor to unlock your masochistic desires is that I can patch you up again afterwards," Hannibal told him. Will watched his sure, precise movements. "I must be out of practice, the skin is broken here. This is going to sting."

Will flinched a little and wondered how it was possible for him to still feel a lazy roll of arousal through his belly. "Or, that was actually what you you intended to do," he said, giving Hannibal a knowing look. In response Hannibal only smiled, not taking his eyes off his careful ministrations.

 

They ate dinner in the dining room, but it was the most informal meal Will had ever eaten there. The table decorations were restricted to two delicate tapers in elegant silver candlesticks and a simple, low arrangement of white chrysanthemums. Rather than the expected courses, Hannibal had provided a feast of intensely good Lebanese mezze, flavours sharp and salty and bright, ranging from the layered and complex to the simple and satisfying. Hannibal sat at the head of the table, with Will at his right hand, and Hannibal reached across at regular intervals to touch him, stroking his thumb over Will's wrist or resting a hand on his leg momentarily. Will felt inexplicably, ridiculously happy.

After dinner, Hannibal brought him coffee in the living room as, "You may find the chairs more comfortable in your current state". Will fought against the urge to curl up on the sofa with his head in Hannibal's lap and sleep there. He couldn't help suspecting Hannibal would welcome it. Instead he chose one of the armchairs to sit in.

Companionable silence fell over them, which Will appreciated greatly. His thoughts drifted and he retained the sense of peace he'd felt on waking. He felt no need to discuss what had happened between them earlier, which was unusual but welcome. Hannibal seemed equally content to remain quiet. He was reading, and glancing over to Will occasionally. Will thought he could detect a glimpse in these glances of Hannibal reassuring himself of something. It was only the tiniest chink in such self-contained armour but it awoke an unexpected tenderness in Will.

Finally, he reached his hand out towards Hannibal and said, "Bed? Assuming you aren't going to kick me out into the cold, of course."

Hannibal took his hand, "Of course not." And then, "Did you notice me closer to a truer version of myself today, Will?"

"Eventually," Will said with a smile. "What about me? Did you find I relied on social cues too heavily?"

Hannibal put his book away and stood up. "You were beautifully honest."

 

In Hannibal's bedroom, Will stopped him before he could begin undressing. "No, let me, I haven't even-" Will unbuttoned Hannibal's shirt, his trousers, began to push them off his body. "I've barely touched you, I want-" He pulled Hannibal down for a kiss. Hannibal leaned gently into him, kissed him back slow and deep. Will could feel his own heart pound, he felt powerful, like he could ask for anything from Hannibal and receive it on a silver platter.

"What do you want?" asked Hannibal, as he broke the kiss, and finished removing his clothes. He stood before Will, who just drank him in.

"I want to suck you, like this," said Will, as Hannibal let himself be directed to sit on the bed.

Will hurriedly undressed and sank to his knees before Hannibal. He ran his hands up Hannibal's thighs, over his sides and chest, palms flat, just to feel the warmth and strength of him under his hands. He thought about earlier, how Hannibal had been unable to remain detached, how Will had affected him. How Will somehow wanted to thank him, reward him, though for exactly what he wasn't sure.

Will cupped Hannibal's hardening cock, squeezed and rubbed gently as he watched it thicken. As he leant down to run his tongue gently over the tip, he took a moment to appreciate the terrible intimacy, the heat and scent of him. The thought made him want so much, images flashing through his mind faster than he could keep up with. When he took Hannibal more fully into his mouth, Hannibal gave a quiet groan and brought his hands to Will's face. His thumbs brushed his cheeks while his fingers strayed into his hair. Will began to suck him then, up and down, as much as he could take. Hannibal gasped out something Will didn't catch, possibly not in English. His hands remained gentle on Will's head, just feeling his muscles working, brushing his curls out of the way. Will moaned around his thickness and when Hannibal came, hot and bitter over his tongue, he felt almost blessed.

He rested for a few moments with his head in Hannibal's lap, nuzzling his stomach. When he looked up, Hannibal pulled him up to kiss him with abandon.

"Lie down," said Hannibal, arranging a pillows to make him more comfortable. Will thought about how they'd spent such little time doing this, and how he might never get enough. Hannibal kissed his way open mouthed down Will's neck and chest, over his stomach, until he finally reached his aching cock. He licked Will from root to tip, then swallowed him down deeply.

Will clutched at the sheets and hissed, "Christ, Hannibal".

Hannibal pulled off slightly, looking pleased with himself, then began a slow, torturous suction that had Will keening into his hand. His hands grasped Will's hips, slid down to knead his thighs, before pushing them further apart and holding him there. Will felt Hannibal's tongue run over his balls, puffs of hot breath damp between his legs, and groaned, shifting to give Hannibal better access. Eventually Hannibal stopped long enough to ask, "Tell me how much experience you have of this. You stopped me before."

Will struggled to form a coherent answer. "With men, not that much, mostly in college. I've never been fucked, if that's what you're asking," and tried hard not to sound defensive.

"Nothing else? What about when you're on your own?" said Hannibal and stroked his fingers behind Will's balls, over his perineum and down over his entrance.

Will had to clutch at the sheets again. "It's like that, is it, you want me to confess all?"

Hannibal smiled. "If it pleases you to see it that way, then yes," and continued gently rubbing, circling his fingers over Will's hole.

"Okay, okay. I use my fingers sometimes, and occasionally I've been with women who've done that too. Not so much with men, it was mostly drunk groping anyway. Happy now?"

"Yes, very. Would you like me to?"

"God, yes. Stop teasing me. Anyone would think you're a sadist", which earned him a delighted look and a kiss from Hannibal, as he leant over to produce lube from his bedside table.

"Another time I must teach you about patience," Hannibal breathed into his ear, as he returned to Will. "There are many ways I can do that. What do you think?"

Will watched as Hannibal slicked his fingers and reached back down for him. He began his teasing again, just barely nudging one fingertip inside Will.

"I think- Oh God- I think that's probably up to you, isn't it- Ah-" The touch was slight, causing tiny little shocks of pleasure and he couldn't help chasing it by working himself up against Hannibal's hand. It was agitating the sore skin of his ass and he felt sure he'd regret that later. "If you wanted to, I wouldn't stop you, I wouldn't want to-"

Hannibal shifted to lean his weight more fully over Will, using his knees to hold his legs apart, so there was less space and Will could only wriggle against his hand.

"Look at you. I can't decide if I prefer you obedient or like this, unable to stop yourself and in need of correction," Hannibal purred into his mouth.

Will was wide-eyed at Hannibal's train of thought. He moaned with want and Hannibal rewarded him by finally pushing his finger inside him. It was sudden and Will gasped, clutching at Hannibal. Hannibal gave a wolfish smile, kissing, licking and biting at Will's lips. He worked his finger into Will, while Will moaned again at the glorious intrusion. Hannibal slid back down over Will to continue sucking him, slow and languorous this time, Will's hands now in his hair. Will groaned and pushed back against him, encouraging, flexing his hips. Hannibal teased at him, curling his finger and rubbing him until Will was begging for more. When he twisted another finger inside, the stretch of it was delicious and Will panted out his appreciation. 

As Hannibal began to suck more purposefully, Will watched him open-mouthed, and realised he was free to touch too. He unclenched his hands from the sheets and brought them up to grasp at Hannibal's hair and stroke any skin he could reach. Will couldn't tear his eyes from him, the slide of Hannibal's lips over his cock, the assured way he did even this. 

“Hannibal- I'm going to-” Will managed to groan out before coming.

Hannibal took him deep, throat working as he swallowed around him. Will moaned loudly and clutched at him. When he was able to open his eyes again, Hannibal still had his mouth on him, languidly cleaning him with his tongue.

“Shit,” breathed Will, entranced.

Hannibal smiled up at him, his hair in disarray, mouth red and swollen and wet. Will reached for him, and Hannibal moved up to kiss him deeply, sliding his hands through Will's hair. The taste of himself on Hannibal left Will speechless, the intensity of the evening beginning to catch up with him. Hannibal said very little, only murmuring little phrases in a language Will didn't recognise as he pressed kisses into his skin. Will allowed Hannibal to wrap him up in his arms and fell asleep with Hannibal's warm breath on the back of his neck.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal smiled at Will over the scallops. "Where would you like to begin today?"

Will put down his knife and fork, reached for his wine. "I've started seeing this guy and I found out he likes to hit me and I like it too. Perhaps we should start with that."

"Of course. And does this worry you?" Hannibal continued, smoothly.

"No, not exactly. It's just a new experience. Quite the development, I would say. For me, not so much for him."

"New experiences can leave us feeling out of our depth, unsure of ourselves. Our boundaries and limits are being redefined."

"You can say that again."

Hannibal crossed his legs and sat back in his chair, the perfect image of a professional psychiatrist.

"Maybe you are looking for reassurance. You would like me to tell you that this is a healthy exploration of your fantasies."

"Maybe. I don't know. My psychiatrist's take on this would be interesting to me."

"Would you trust my judgement?"

Will looked away.

"Or perhaps there's something else you'd like to ask? Something more personal?"

"I still have his marks on me, you know. Would you like to see them?"

Will felt a stab of triumph at Hannibal's reaction to that. It was only for a moment but he saw a flicker of mingled desire and anger play across his features. He didn't know why he was trying to provoke Hannibal but he couldn't help it.

He'd left Hannibal's house happy and sated, late on Sunday morning. Since then he felt a kind of amazed, happy disbelief at what was happening between them. He had looked forward to tonight and had thought about it frequently, much more thoroughly when he’d had the time and leisure to do so. But now he was here it was a different matter. Hannibal had greeted him warmly and flirtatiously but still wearing his calm, pleasant persona. It was infuriating how Hannibal seemed to be able to compartmentalise so easily.

Hannibal stared hard at him before softly, but firmly, replying, "After dinner."

Will gave a slow nod, ready to let it go for now. "Maybe there are things I want to ask you though. Personal things."

Hannibal resumed eating. "Ask away. I don't have anything to hide, least of all from you."

Will tried not to look too disbelieving."Tell me about your past, your relationships. Have you done this with all of them?"

“Had dinner? Or do you mean something else?”

Exasperated, Will leaned across the table to gesture with his fork. “You know very well what I mean. _Sexual dominance and sadomasochism_ , as you so memorably put it.”

"No, it's always been separate. I date and I have different partners for my other activities. I don’t need to dominate to enjoy sex."

“But how? How on earth do you find partners for that sort of thing? Online? You can’t just stumble upon them.”

With a little smile in Will’s direction, Hannibal said, “It can happen, if one is lucky. But, yes - there are plenty of people online looking for someone like me. It’s only a matter of choosing the right ones.”

“I don’t understand how you’d even start. Do you meet up for coffee beforehand to check that it won’t be horribly awkward? And that neither of you is likely to be a serial killer?”

Hannibal made a little frown of distaste. “No, I found it was desirable to have as little personal contact as possible.”

“So how did you choose? Appearance?”

“The most pragmatic solution was to advertise, and I found I could do so in a way which would select those most suited to my needs. From there it was simply my choice.”

Half-surprised and half-amused, Will said, “Of course, you got them to self-select. Very efficient of you. What controls did you use?”

“Obviously I needed to know what they were looking for, what they wanted from me. And I had them complete a questionnaire about themselves. That they were willing to go through such a process spoke volumes on its own, but I could determine certain things through the information they volunteered.”

Will broke into a mischievous grin. “You psychoanalysed your sexual partners? Hannibal - I thought I was special.”

“You are, Will. I don’t expect payment from you.”

Will dropped his fork. “You're telling me people paid you to hurt them. And then to have sex with them.”

“The money was simply another level of control. They paid me for the privilege, and it bounded their expectations of me. I only had sex with them occasionally, when it seemed mutually desirable. Do you mind?”

Will was temporarily speechless. “Which part?” he asked faintly. Now he could picture exactly how Hannibal would have been with them, distant and clinical, powerfully controlled. There just to inflict whatever they desired, with that cruel tilt to his mouth belying the pleasure he found in it. "They must have thought they'd won the lottery, finding you." 

“My jealous Will. Do you understand now, how different you are?”

Will had to look away. He stared hard at his plate, food forgotten, hands twisting together under the table. “How can you just say things like that-”

“Because it’s true. I know you find it hard to hear. But you want to hear it all the same. Or you wouldn’t be pushing me like this.”

Will sighed and rolled his shoulders, suddenly tense. “It's just. I've never. Anything like this. With anyone. Not just the sex stuff. Everything.”

“Neither have I.” 

Will watched as Hannibal slid his upturned hand across the table to him. Hesitantly he unclenched a hand from where it lay in his lap, and brought it out to trace his fingers over Hannibal’s palm. 

“So you weren’t like this with them.”

It wasn’t a question but Hannibal still replied with a soft, “No”.

“And you’re no longer- _seeing-_ them?”

“Why would I now I have you?”

Will looked up at Hannibal through his lashes, still uncertain. Hannibal was right, he did want reassurance, had wanted to push Hannibal to prove it. “You are kind to me, often. Sometimes when I don't deserve it.”

Hannibal folded his fingers over Will’s. “You inspire it in me. And it's perfectly possible to be kind and cruel in equal measure.” He regarded Will steadily for a few moments. “Let’s finish dinner later. It will keep.”

 

In his bedroom, Hannibal stripped him methodically in front of the mirror. Will stood impassively, watching the calm yet determined set to Hannibal's jaw. Inside he felt a complex swirl of anxiety, guilt and hope. He knew he'd behaved badly over dinner, but he couldn't regret it, especially if this was the result. Hannibal had been playing games with him too. In the mirror his reflection looked almost defiant, Will thought, like it was daring Hannibal to reveal himself again, to prove to him that what he’d said was true.

When Hannibal exposed the welts on his ass, the tension in the air was tangible. Will watched his face as Hannibal paused before gently running his fingers over the one uppermost, his expression controlled. The skin was healed, pink and tender, but there was still a raised mark. Hannibal knelt to check them more closely, hands warm on Will's skin. Will didn't move, didn't speak. In the mirror, Hannibal's expression was mostly hidden, but Will could see he was affected. He lingered far longer than necessary, hands cataloguing the marks he'd left, and when he stood he swept his palms up along Will's back until he found the bruise his bite had left on his shoulder. Will knew it was there, every day he'd spent several minutes at the mirror checking he hadn't hallucinated the whole thing, a constant reminder of Hannibal's temporary possession of him.

Holding Will’s gaze in the mirror, Hannibal pulled Will back against him, wrapping his arms around his chest and pressing his cheek to Will's. The warmth of Hannibal’s clothed body against his naked skin, the mingled strength and tenderness in the embrace, enveloped Will. He couldn't look away as Hannibal kissed his neck and asked, "Do you remember what I said before I gave you these marks?”

Will breathed in shakily. "Yes. You wanted your mark on me. You wanted me to understand what I'd asked for."

"And do you?"

"I don't know, are they-" Will couldn't bring himself to say it. He wanted it too much, he realised, couldn't say it out loud to himself never mind to Hannibal. He felt flayed open, unable to look away from their reflections, the truth of how he was with Hannibal. "I don't know how to describe it, what I am to you. What should I call myself - your submissive?"

Hannibal's breathing was audible in Will's ear, the hitch in it was unmistakable.

"They mean you are mine. Simply that."

Will shut his eyes, biting his lip to stop himself letting out a sound of need. He gave an unsteady nod, in understanding, in agreement.

Hannibal pulled away to retrieve Will's belt. As he stood behind Will with it looped in his hands, Will shivered involuntarily, waiting.

Hannibal soothed a hand down his side, with an amused curve to his lips. "Another time," he promised, as he wrapped the belt around Will so his arms were held fast against his sides, pulling them in at the elbows. Will automatically tugged his arms, testing. It wasn't uncomfortable yet, but it would be. The leather was thick but worn, the edges digging into the crooks of his arms as he strained against it. Hannibal seemed satisfied with the result but breathed a question into Will's ear, watching him in the mirror.

"How does that feel?"

"Fine. Good. Tight enough but not too tight."

"How do you think you look?"

Will swallowed. Hannibal must know how he thought he looked, couldn't have missed how Will had been unable to look away from himself. It was like an out of body experience, the indifferent mirror reflecting his nakedness and arousal, bound by and for Hannibal. It’s honesty was undeniable.

"I think I look- God." Will shut his eyes, bowed his head to speak again. "Yours. I look like I'm yours."

Hannibal didn't reply immediately, just smiled gently, stroking a hand flat over Will's stomach, the other on his arm. Placing little kisses on his jaw, and behind his ear, he said softly, "Beautiful. So beautiful."

Will inhaled sharply. He couldn't ever remember anyone speaking to him like that, the words blossoming a bright, sharp pain in him. His eyes were averted from Hannibal's but it would have been pointless to try to hide the need it awoke in him. 

Hannibal brushed a finger over Will's ass, stroking along one of the stripes. "Did you tend to these like I asked?"

"Yes. I used the salve. Every day."

"Very good. And did you admire them too?"

Will watched himself flush. Lying would have been impossible but it didn't even occur to him. "Yes," he whispered.

"Maybe you touched yourself while you did?"

"Oh God." Will tried to hold back a moan and it ended up sounding more like a whimper. "Yes. I did."

He was almost trembling with need, for Hannibal to touch him, to break the tension somehow. Hannibal was pressed up tightly against him, Will could feel his hardness nudging his hip through the wool of his suit. He wanted to rub back against him but he felt off-balance with his arms restrained, like his centre of gravity had shifted.

Hannibal was watching him hungrily, sometimes in the mirror, sometimes flicking his eyes over the side of Will's face. He gently combed his fingers through Will's hair, took hold and pulled so Will bared his neck to him. Hannibal's mouth touched him there, placed gentle kisses, licked, scraped his teeth over the tender skin. Will moaned aloud, it was so good. Hannibal's eyes were closed, like he was tasting him, concentrating, committing him to memory.

Hannibal pulled back and said in a low voice, "I want you to stand just as you are but with your legs spread wider apart. Can you do that?"

Will nodded again, shifting his stance as he did so. “Yes.”

Hannibal’s hands were at his elbows as he leaned away, appraising and adjusting until he was satisfied. “Good. Do not move.”

Hannibal sank to his knees behind Will, and dragged his tongue along the length of one of the welts. Will gasped, the need in his expression reflected back at him in the mirror. All he could clearly see of Hannibal were the fingers curled around his thighs, holding him steady. He felt Hannibal’s mouth moving hot on his skin, over the marks he’d made. They were sensitive where they were still healing, and even Hannibal’s breath on the now-damp skin made Will shiver. When Hannibal nipped sharply at a welt with his teeth, Will let out a hoarse curse.

Hannibal’s hands shifted to his ass, palming and squeezing, while Will watched himself in the mirror. His nakedness was obscenely set off by the sight of Hannibal’s plaid-covered thighs as he knelt behind his spread legs. In the mirror, he saw his cock twitch. He felt Hannibal’s warm breath damp on his skin and tried not to push back against him. When Hannibal spread Will’s cheeks apart and ran his hot tongue ran upwards between them, Will moaned loudly, head thrown back. His cock was aching now, leaking pre-come, and if he could have touched himself he would have been unable to resist. The thought of watching himself fist his own cock in the mirror made him gasp, the image of it bright and clear in his mind.

When Hannibal touched his tongue to his hole, Will had to force himself to hold still rather than try to work himself back on Hannibal’s mouth. He was rewarded for his patience - Hannibal lathed his tongue over him, teasing his entrance, exploring the delicate skin, until finally pushing the tip inside him.

 _“Fuck.”_ Will’s thighs were trembling with the effort of holding still, his bound arms making balance difficult. The breach of it was glorious, pushing thick against the rim of his hole. Hannibal’s fingers were digging into his ass as he continued to lick Will, alternating between gentle, wet laps teasing over his entrance and fucking into him with his tongue. Will could feel the wetness between his cheeks and spreading down his thighs. It seemed so utterly depraved somehow, so messy and indecent and unlike Hannibal. He couldn’t imagine Hannibal like this with anyone else.

Hannibal paused and Will felt his forehead rest on the small of his back. 

“I want you, tonight.” Hannibal said in a rough voice. “Will you let me fuck you, like this?”

Even if Will hadn’t fantasised about just that, he would have found it impossible to deny Hannibal’s request. That he would even _request_ , that he _didn’t know already_ that Will was willing to give him anything he asked for.

“Yes, God, please,” broke out Will. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He felt Hannibal sigh out a breath onto his sensitised skin before he stood and moved away. When he returned he stood behind Will as before, but with closed eyes and his cheek pressed to Will’s as if they were dancing. He looked utterly undone. As he worked a slick finger inside Will, he placed his other hand on Will’s chest, pulling him in tight against himself. Will leaned his head back against Hannibal’s and shut his eyes too, panting at the intrusion, at the idea of being made ready for Hannibal. He felt bestowed with something - something unique, something of Hannibal’s. Like Hannibal was granting him a reward, a gift.

Hannibal took his time rubbing at him, stretching him, pleasuring him. Will moaned when Hannibal added a second finger and thought about Hannibal’s cock would feel, how much thicker it was. His arms were starting to ache, the leather digging into the tender skin of his inner arms. It would probably bruise, another to add to his collection. Will ached at the thought and tried to push back on Hannibal's fingers, wanting more. Hannibal kissed his hair, and slowly worked another finger inside him. Will moaned as the stretch increased. He could feel how tight he was around them. It was thrilling how careful Hannibal was with him, how deliberate. Will knew Hannibal was working him like this with his fingers for no other reason than Hannibal enjoyed it. 

When Hannibal guided him toward the bed Will could feel every nerve in his body singing out with need, a glorious thrumming that he simultaneously wanted to last forever and craved release from. Hannibal helped him kneel on the bed and then to lean forward, folded over his knees so his ass was raised upwards. Will found he could just about use his forearms to take some of his bodyweight, and Hannibal arranged a pillow to ease the pressure on his neck. Will pressed his face into it and tried to steady his breathing. It was overwhelming, being prepared and presented for Hannibal, unable to move and waiting for his cock.

He heard Hannibal undress behind him, clothes dropping to the floor without care, then careful hands on his hips pulling Will backwards against him. Will sighed and let Hannibal take his weight, feeling the thick slow push of his cock against his hole. The stretch was totally unlike before, and Will made himself breathe through it, wanting to submit entirely. Hannibal rested there, while Will forced himself to relax, until Hannibal pulled out a little and rocked gently forwards, settling deeper inside this time. The feeling was still not entirely pleasurable but _good_ \- a complex sensation of fullness. Will moaned, enjoying the thought of himself stretched tight around Hannibal’s cock, how it must look. How it would _please Hannibal._ He gasped into the pillow at the idea, at how quickly he’d become used to being desired and how much he enjoyed it. It was so different to anything he’d felt before, a revelation of needs he’d never known.

Hannibal rocked into him again but more decisively, and the long slow slide of him made Will groan again. Hannibal’s hands gripped him tighter, moving Will against him at the same slow pace, causing them both to gasp. When Hannibal pushed in and tilted his hips up to fuck into him at a different angle, Will shouted out, hands scrabbling at the bedclothes. It was much easier now and Will craved more, the hot slick feel of Hannibal’s cock increasing his desperation. There was nothing he could do beyond squeezing his muscles around Hannibal's cock, which when he tried it made Hannibal gasp and fuck him harder, using Will’s unbalanced state to pull him back onto him. 

They were both panting now, Will could feel himself teetering on the edge. He concentrated on the feeling of Hannibal holding him, how helpless he was, how he had to lie there and take it, and _how good_ he was at taking it. How much Hannibal loved to see him like this, how undone he’d been at Will’s submission in front of the mirror. 

“Hannibal-” Will gasped out. “Say it, I want to hear you- What you said before.”

“ _Mine._ ” Above him Hannibal growled fiercely, briefly digging his nails into the marks on Will’s ass and then reaching around to roughly jerk Will’s cock.

It only took a couple of strokes and Will came loudly, messily, all over his stomach and Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal growled once more and slammed into him, grabbing Will’s hips to roughly pull Will back onto him. Will panted through the aftershocks of his orgasm, over-sensitive now but savouring Hannibal using him for his pleasure. He squirmed a little and made himself pliant, allowing Hannibal to fuck into him as hard as he liked, encouraging with little pleas and noises. Hannibal moaned his name and came deep inside him.

Hannibal rested only for a few seconds before pulling away and unfastening the belt still around Will. Will made a half-hearted attempt to stretch out his legs and rolled onto his back. Hannibal lay next to him and rubbed some of the feeling back into Will’s arms. Will drifted, letting Hannibal manoeuvre him into his embrace. His mouth met Hannibal’s for a soft, searching kiss. Before he fell asleep he realised he was smiling.

 

It was his growling stomach that woke Will up. When he squinted open an eye he found Hannibal watching him with amusement.

“I thought I was going to have to wake you so I could put your stomach out of it's misery.”

Will stretched, raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean we can finish dinner now?”

They showered together first, and it was companionable and easy. Will kissed Hannibal under the warm spray, letting his hands glide over wet skin, and let Hannibal to wash his hair. 

“I like you like this,” Will said. “I know I behaved badly earlier. I wanted to provoke you. Out of that well-behaved politeness you wear so convincingly.”

“Am I not being polite now?”

“You're being honest now. You want to touch me, kiss me, wash my hair, bend me over and fuck me - you do.”

“I asked permission before doing the last one. That was polite.”

“You didn't ask out of politeness. You wanted to fuck me knowing that I wanted it as much as you did.”

Hannibal paused, still rinsing and untangling Will’s hair with his fingers. “Maybe there is some truth in what you say.”

“There's a lot of truth in it. Polite sex is boring sex, anyway.” Will looked around at him. “If you've finished, maybe we can eat?”

Hannibal growled into Will's ear and bit his neck before releasing him.

Instead of getting dressed, Hannibal handed Will what was obviously a brand new dark-blue robe to wear. Will put it on without comment, simply grateful it wasn't silk. Hannibal had clearly lied about dinner keeping for later. Will supposed he should take that as a great compliment, especially when Hannibal showed no signs of minding. Instead of the rôti-de-boeuf they were supposed to have, Hannibal served the beef on fresh sourdough, cold and thinly-sliced with caramelised onions, watercress, pickled cucumber and horseradish. Alongside it were tiny grilled Stilton rarebits. It was fiendishly satisfying, a sophisticated but simple midnight feast. They ate in the dining room with flickering candlelight adding to the atmosphere of cosy, dark intimacy. As always, Will noted, Hannibal's sense of occasion was faultless.

Hannibal watched Will enjoy the food with evident satisfaction. “You were troubled earlier. It wasn't only my politeness that bothered you.”

“I'm not troubled now.”

“I can see that.”

“A lot has changed, a lot hasn't. It can be disorientating.” Will paused before continuing, “I didn't know then what I know now, about the others.”

“I told you this was different.”

“I couldn't believe it before. Tonight, the way you were… I just can’t imagine you that way with anyone else.”

“And this matters to you. That you stand apart.”

“It does to you as well,” Will replied, and looked knowingly at Hannibal. “Don't pretend you aren't pleased that you're the first to fuck me.”

Hannibal's smiled widened slightly. “I wondered if you would mention that. Despite everything it retains a symbolism which is hard to cast off.” He leaned closer to Will, brushed his knuckles over his cheek, curled his fingers through his hair. “I confess, it would please me even more to be the last to fuck you.”

Will had to take in a sharp, shuddery breath, before his lips twitched and he conceded, “Okay, you won that round.”

Hannibal kissed him then, warm and yielding. 

 

After dinner, they sat cosily together in the sitting room. Will leaned into Hannibal, already relaxed and contented, cradling his whisky. Hannibal’s book remained unopened at his side, Hannibal himself preferring to divide his attention between Will and the fireplace. In the comfortable silence Will’s thoughts were still and ordered. He found he could take each one and examine it, like a jewel. 

“Do you know how often I've felt like this?” Will gestured at Hannibal, the sofa they were curled up on, the firelit room beyond. 

“Judging from our sessions I would say not very often.”

Will nodded. Hannibal moved closer, stroked his back as Will rested against Hannibal’s chest.

“The questionnaire, the one you used to select your partners. Can I see it?” he said.

“If you wish it, then yes.”

Will looked up at Hannibal. “To clarify, I’m simply curious.”

“I know. You've moved on from interrogating my past to interrogating me - my motivations, desires, expectations.”

Will smiled and didn't deny it.

 

Will woke slowly and luxuriously. He'd slept deeply and peacefully, something rare enough for him to want to take the time to appreciate it. He was alone but Hannibal was close by, he was sure of it.

When he finally sat up he found a sheet of paper on the bedside table. It was Hannibal's questionnaire. Next to it was a pen and a note:

_“I believe this is what you wanted. What you do with it is your choice.”_

Will grinned and quickly scanned it before taking up the pen.

 

“Well, would you have chosen me?” Will handed his completed questionnaire to Hannibal with a flourish.

Hannibal read it, lips quirking, while Will fetched himself coffee and sat down.

_**Explain your past experience of BDSM. When did you first become aware of your desires and why did you decide/have you decided to act on them?** _

_“When my psychiatrist pinned me to his kitchen countertop and had his wicked way with me. He's the psychiatrist - ask him.”_

_**What do you hope to gain as a result of our encounter?** _

_“To get off? And some really good food.”_

_**How would your last play partner describe you to their friends**_?

_“The aforementioned psychiatrist couldn't - patient confidentiality. Although ‘technically’ our sessions never really happened so perhaps he'd say that, despite anything else I might be, at least I'm not boring.”_

_**Do you have any unusual fears or hard limits? State below in full.** _

_“Nothing which requires me to be social. Being psychoanalysed.”_

_**Tell me about your first sexual experience in no more than 20 words**._

_“Back of Laura Hebert’s car. Unremarkable but memorable all the same.”_

_**Are you more like your mother or your father? Please state why.** _

_“Difficult to answer as I never met my mother. Nurture theory would state I must be more like my father but I think we both suspected at times that it wasn’t always the case. And sometimes I wonder if this is just something psychiatrists ask to make up the hour.”_

_**Have you ever been asked not to do something and then done it anyway? What was the result?** _

_“I'm usually asked to do things I don't want to do, rather than the other way around, and then end up doing them anyway. I'm a very law-abiding, obedient citizen. Except for that time I broke Maurice Roger’s nose in fifth grade. (He deserved it though.)”_

When Hannibal looked up Will was sitting, drinking his coffee and feeling pleased with himself. 

“Well?”

Hannibal gave a laugh. “You would never have completed this of your own accord.”

Will shrugged, “Yes, that is true. Answer the question.”

“I believe I would have, yes. I would have wanted to meet you, if only to teach you some manners. The way you avoid objectionable questions is intriguing and occasionally charming.”

Will laughed aloud at that. Hannibal approached and wrapped his arms around him, leaning down to say teasingly, “And I would want to talk about this psychiatrist who's corrupted you so terribly.”

“He might get jealous.”

“You desire him to be jealous, I think. You like feeling possessed.”

Will reached up to kiss him, pressing his mouth to Hannibal's, licking into the warmth of him. To wake up in Hannibal's bed, to feel he belonged there enough so he could doze alone for an hour, to pour his own coffee in Hannibal's kitchen. It was unexpectedly wonderful.

When Hannibal pulled back, he said, “I’m glad you didn't apply. This way is more fitting. We both happened to each other.”

Will smiled up at him, warm and genuine. It was such a simple thing, being wanted, yet it made so much difference.

Hannibal was still standing in front of him, arms around him. Will couldn't resist asking, “Are you going to teach me those manners now?”

“So impertinent.” Hannibal kissed the words into his mouth. He pulled away, stood back from Will. “Kneel.”

Will did, sliding to his knees in one smooth movement, holding Hannibal's gaze. He tried very hard to look obedient but couldn't stop a knowing smile creeping over his face.

Hannibal tutted and hooked a finger under his jaw, tilting his head up. His thumb brushed Will's chin, over his lips and gently pushed inside when they parted.

Then he leaned down to whisper with his shark-toothed grin, “I will most certainly teach you some manners, but at the time of my choosing and not yours.”

Will huffed a laugh around Hannibal's thumb, just letting it rest in his mouth. He was tempted to suck and lick at it lasciviously but felt that would not be thing to do. There was something more serious in Hannibal's eyes.

Hannibal released him and leaned to place a kiss on his forehead, murmuring something unintelligible into his skin.

“You've done that before,” Will observed. He felt a prickle of something, deep in the core of him. He couldn't say if it was pleasurable or not but he felt a ridiculous urge to run, even though he knew he didn't really want to. Instead he leaned his forehead on Hannibal's hip, and Hannibal carded his fingers through his hair. “Do I want to know what it means?”

“No, you are not ready to hear it, it would only result in you feeling uncomfortable. So I will still say it but make sure you cannot understand.”

“Oh.” Will thought about how ridiculous he was, how he knew what the words conveyed, but couldn't stand to hear them. And yet Hannibal’s possessive language made his heart stop with longing. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I give you what you need, and you need this from me.”

Will moved so he could meet Hannibal's eyes, felt himself shift back into that peaceful state. Hannibal was still stroking his hair.

“Besides,” Hannibal said, “you will feel differently in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professional Doms don’t ever sleep with their clients so Hannibal is crossing many, many boundaries by doing so. And it’s also illegal. But when did that ever stop Hannibal from doing something he wants.
> 
> And yes, Hannibal makes Will a post-sex sandwich.
> 
> Here’s Hannibal's ‘application form’ in full - professional Doms will screen people and also ask that people fill out a checklist of things they might be looking for/don’t want but Hannibal prefers open questions.
> 
>  
> 
> _Please complete the below questions as fully as possible, and to the best of your ability, before signing, scanning and emailing to me. Your application will not be considered if you do not follow these instructions._
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _Explain your past experience of BDSM. When did you first become aware of your desires and why did you decide/have you decided to act on them?_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _What do you hope to gain as a result of our encounter?_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _How would your last play partner describe you to their friends?_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _Do you have any unusual fears or hard limits? State below in full._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _Tell me about your first sexual experience in no more than 20 words._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _Are you more like your mother or your father? Please state why._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _Have you ever been asked not to do something and then done it anyway? What was the result?_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> _Please note if you are chosen I must ask that you refrain from consuming alcohol or drugs for 24 hours prior to our appointment. You will also be asked to shower beforehand at our appointment venue. There are no exceptions to these rules._
> 
>  
> 
> _Signature_
> 
>  
> 
> _Date_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning - the dub con fantasy tag applies most here. Everything which happens in this fic is entirely consensual but if dub con play makes you uncomfortable, you might want to consider skipping this one.

Hannibal learned from his previous error of judgement for their standing appointment on Wednesday evenings. Instead of politely greeting Will at the door and bidding him to sit down for a three course meal, Hannibal shoved him against the entranceway wall and kissed him demandingly until they were both hard and panting. Will retaliated by dropping to his knees and sucking Hannibal off against the back of his front door. Then upstairs, Hannibal had taken his time devouring every inch of Will until he was begging for release, leaving livid bruises in his wake. Only then did they enjoy the dinner Hannibal had prepared earlier. The food was as considered and beautiful as always, and the setting still ceremonious, yet compared to his first dinner with Hannibal several weeks ago it was intimate and informal. Will couldn’t be sure if these changes were simply a concession to his preferences or if they held some deeper significance. 

Hannibal had observed Will favouring his uninjured shoulder, and looked faintly disapproving when Will had described how he’d spent the morning lying in the dirt to work on an old boat engine.

“It’s a hobby,” Will shrugged. “It’s more satisfying than doing a crossword puzzle.”

“As a psychiatrist, there are very many avenues of enquiry I could take exploring your choice to adopt your father’s profession as a hobby. But for now I’m only going to insist you let me loosen the joint with some massage. And perhaps prescribe you some anti-inflammatories.”

Will had put up only a token protest. He was well-acquainted now with the intense cocoon-like atmosphere Hannibal wove around them, and how it left him sated and at peace. He let Hannibal probe painfully at his shoulder, answered questions about physiotherapy exercises he never completed and then lay as instructed on a towel on Hannibal’s bed.

"I have a proposition," said Hannibal, working his fingertips firmly into the muscles around Will’s shoulder blades. Will lay with his head pillowed on his arms while Hannibal massaged his back, deftly manipulating the hidden knots of tension. 

"Mmmmn. Good time to ask while you do that."

"I am planning a small cocktail party- "

"Ten-twelve," interrupted Will, raising his head.

Hannibal paused in his ministrations. Will could feel his displeasure radiating the air between them. "You shouldn't use your safe word in jest, Will."

Will ignored that and smiled, twisting his head round to look at him. "I’m not. We discussed this. We agreed I’d be bored."

Hannibal's hands continued to work, with a little more pressure than before. "If you had waited until I'd finished my sentence you would know differently. I would like you there, yes, but not to mingle with the guests. You would be there for me only."

"That sounds... more appealing," said Will, curiosity piqued.

 

Will considered his position, stretching out his legs fully and shifting on the bed to lie down. From upstairs he could hear the shuffling, murmuring movement of Hannibal’s gathering. Hannibal would be smoothly gliding through the cream of Baltimore society, being charming and tasteful and just interesting enough to satisfy the shallow, jaded palates of the attendees. Will let out a loud noise of disgust, patience already wearing thin. 

Hannibal had left approximately forty minutes ago, promising to check on him regularly. With nothing but water and an emergency pager for company, Will had become bored and frustrated very, very quickly. Perhaps if he was in Hannibal’s bedroom, with the party far away downstairs and out of his hearing, he would be content to lie back and wait. Instead every time one of Hannibal’s hired helpers came to fetch more wine from the cellar outside, Will’s pulse raced involuntarily, simultaneously awaiting Hannibal’s return and fearing a stranger stumbling into the room by mistake. He knew it was impossible - Hannibal had locked the door and taken the key with him. The only other one was inside the room, on the nightstand. But irrational thoughts of accidental discovery wouldn’t leave him - of a stranger finding him naked and tied to a bed in Hannibal’s basement. It was reminiscent of watching himself in the mirror. He could so easily see himself through this imaginary person’s eyes, the truth reflected back at him. There would be nothing he could say to explain away the circumstances. It would be immediately obvious what role he occupied in Hannibal’s life. And it caused him to become shamefully aroused. 

Just to feel its unforgiving hold, Will pulled against the rope which bound him. It was long and was looped under the width of the bed-frame, with each end fastened to the new leather wrist cuffs he wore. They had come in an expensive-looking box, wrapped in scented tissue, and Hannibal had presented them as if gifting jewellery. Will had been conflicted, torn between desire to wear them and uncomfortable with receiving gifts, particularly costly ones. Now he’d worn them for a time, and with little else to think about, they felt as if they belonged to him. Hannibal had chosen exceedingly well - dark brown leather with minimal brass fittings and connected by a leather strap. Will was constantly aware of the thick, soft leather encircling his wrists, like Hannibal’s hands had done that first night together.

Will sat up again and sighed in exasperation. He was only half-hard but if he were to touch himself and allow his train of thought to continue, he knew he could find release extremely quickly. The only thing preventing him from doing so was the promise he’d made Hannibal. Instead of once more weighing up the pros and cons of disobeying, Will chose to fully stretch his legs. If he kept very close to the side of the bed, the rope would just allow him to walk its length as far as the legs underneath. 

As he was standing, he heard a door close and footsteps coming down the stairs. Very familiar ones - even, confident, measured. Will shut his eyes, partly in relief and partly in annoyance. Of course Hannibal wouldn’t be in a hurry. He sat on the side of the bed, and waited.

“Good evening Will, I trust you are enjoying yourself?” Hannibal said when he entered, locking the door behind him. When he only received a baleful glance in response, he looked even more pleased with himself. 

_Bastard,_ thought Will. _Sadistic bastard._

Hannibal stood in front of him, assessing his demeanour. Will made no attempt to wipe the surliness from his face. 

Smiling down at Will, he said, “I thought you said you would much prefer to be down here on your own. Perhaps you’d like to come upstairs and meet my guests instead? I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Will flopped back down on the bed with a sigh. “Have you come to torture me?”

“I’m here to check on you. To see if there’s anything you need, ensure you are still comfortable.”

“How is it going upstairs? Has anyone told any _fascinating_ anecdotes yet? Have two people turned up in the same outfit? Has a little gaggle gathered to discuss your _Leda and the Swan_ or are they stood with their backs to it, politely ignoring it’s existence?”

Hannibal smiled. “You should really see these things with your own eyes. It loses something in the translation.” He went to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at Will. “I see you are unhappy with me. Feeling neglected, perhaps.”

“That’s your point, isn’t it? You’re teaching me _patience,_ ” Will said to the ceiling.

“Am I?” Will could hear the amused, self-satisfied note in his voice. “Is it working?” Will refused to look at him but could see Hannibal’s stance in his mind’s eye - hands held behind his back, relaxed, circling Will at a distance.

“How can it work when I don’t even know what you want from me? What’s the point of me being here alone?”

“Will, you are not alone here. I am very close by even if you cannot see me.” Hannibal sat next to him, and placed a gentling hand on his arm. “Remind me of your safeword, please.”

“Ten-twelve.” Will said automatically. “And if you’re not here I use the pager.”

“Good.” Hannibal stood. “I will return to check on you in half an hour.”

“There isn’t a clock - I don't even know what time it is!”

“I suppose you will just have to trust me then.”

 

The time passed much as before. Will’s frustration was angry and formless - directed at himself for agreeing to this and for being too stubborn to stop it; at Hannibal for playing him off against his guests upstairs; and finally at being deliciously restrained but with no one but himself to take pleasure in it.

Lying down with his hands resting on his stomach was the most comfortable position to maintain for a longer period. He lay back and let his mind drift over their conversation, working on the problem of why Hannibal had chosen this for him. Patience it may be but there was something else which Will couldn’t put his finger on.

 

When Hannibal returned a second time he brought with him a plate of canapés and a glass of wine. Will pulled himself out of his recline, stretching his arms out in front of him as best as he could, while Hannibal set up a small table for the food. He sat on the bed next to Will, and reached to run his hands over the skin of his back, checking for tension or discomfort. 

“Feeling a little less tense, I see.” 

Will didn’t confirm or deny the truth of this, he only commented, “You brought food.”

“Yes, I couldn’t bear the thought of you missing out. Here,” and with that he picked up a canapé and held it out in front of Will’s lips. Will gave Hannibal an assessing look before acquiescing, taking a deliberately delicate bite from Hannibal’s fingers. 

It was, unsurprisingly, good and Will couldn't help making a little noise of pleasure. “Did you make everything yourself?” Will inclined his head towards the door and the stairs. He'd arrived much earlier than the other guests, but after most of the preparations were completed. The scale of the catering had taken him by surprise.

“Yes, but with assistance,” smiled Hannibal, holding out another. This time Will opened his mouth more fully and took the whole thing from Hannibal's fingers, making sure to graze his tongue over his fingertips. 

Hannibal watched Will eat with an expression of pleasure, then held out the wine for him to sip. “This should complement the beef tartare perfectly.”

“I have no doubt of it.” Will said dryly and did as indicated.

Hannibal leaned further into Will’s space, caressed his cheek with his thumb, and chuckled. “So lovely and yet so caustic. What shall I do with you?”

Will pressed nearer, sighed and said in mock seduction, “I don't know but you'd better do it soon.”

Hannibal laughed aloud and then, pressing his lips to Will’s cheek, said in an admonishing tone, “Not yet.”

“Fine.” Resigned, Will relaxed a little and Hannibal fed him another canapé. “So what really is happening upstairs?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “Had a change of heart, have we?”

“I've been bored. Explain it to me.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary so far. Social obligations returned, polite conversation made, my cooking and taste complimented. In attendance are various arts committee and board members, colleagues and former colleagues, and a few I even consider friends.”

Hannibal passed him the wineglass and Will took a large mouthful. “That's just a list of guests. Give me more colour.”

“Mrs Vincent spilled a glass of over Leona Perutz, _accidentally_ of course.” Hannibal punctuated this with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. “I spoke with Mr Shelford about a benefit for the new paediatrics wing at the hospital. And I spent some time deftly avoiding Mrs Pennington as she seems a little too keen to introduce me to her daughter, whose loveliness is only exceeded by her utter inability hold a conversation.”

“Oh,” said Will, momentarily taken aback. He wondered why it had never occurred to him before. “I suppose you must be in high demand. Such an eligible bachelor, after all.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I've started putting it about that I'm very much taken.”

“To avoid the social climbers? How wearing it must be for you.” Will knew he sounded sulky, his bad-temper returning.

“Will.” Hannibal directed a long, slow smile at him, and caressed a hand through his hair. “You know that's not the reason.”

“Damn right it isn't,” said Will, suddenly indignant. “You _are_ very much taken, you make sure they know that.”

Hannibal kissed him deep and hard, practically purring into his mouth. Will took full advantage, determined to make the most of having Hannibal close. His shackled hands crept as far as they could up Hannibal’s chest, sliding under his jacket, as he dragged his tongue against Hannibal’s.

When Hannibal pulled back, he said with a wicked smile, “There's interest growing in you even as we speak. They wanted to know why you didn't attend. I said you were a little tied up.”

Will rolled his eyes, but couldn't help huffing out a little laugh.

 

After Hannibal left again, Will lay down and considered. The scenario he found himself in was extremely particular and it had been designed carefully. If Hannibal had wanted him strapped to the bed and fully restrained he would have found a way to manage the practicalities. As it stood, Will could release himself entirely without too much trouble. And as the key to the door was in the room too, Will clearly had a choice. But there was something else - a point or a message or… a persuasion of some kind? 

The party was no coincidence either.

 

“I know what this is about,” Will said, as soon as Hannibal stepped through the door.

Hannibal looked intrigued but said nothing, removing his jacket as he advanced towards Will, who was once again seated on the edge of the bed.

Will waited to speak until Hannibal knelt in front of him. “You wanted me to sit here, forced to listen to the sounds of you moving through the world without me. You wanted me to choose not to be your secret in the basement. Fine, I’ll do it. I'll meet your friends, colleagues, whatever you call them. You can introduce me to whoever you want. As yours.” Will rubbed at his bound wrists, and as an afterthought added, “Later, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Hannibal agreed, smiling. “As delightful as you are right now, no one aside from myself will ever see you like this.” He ran his palms up Will's thighs to his hips, and leaned in for a kiss. Will shivered at the touch, it seemed he'd waited an age for it.

“I thought you might deny it - pretend you had another motive.” 

“Why should I? Persuasion was required and you need an unusual form for it to be successful.”

“Persuasion, or manipulation? ” Will kissed each word into his mouth, grinning. “You could have just asked me.”

“You would have said no.” Hannibal cradled Will’s head in his hands, and swept a searching gaze over him. “I might observe that you don't seem to mind either way.”

Will had noticed the same thing himself, while waiting for Hannibal. “I prefer it when you show your true colours. I get nervous when you're too polite around me.” He fervently wished his hands were free, he wanted to shove them under Hannibal's waistcoat, pull his shirt free, tangle them through his hair. “Those people upstairs have no idea, have they, what you're really like, what a game it all is.”

He found himself suddenly on his back with Hannibal on top of him. Hannibal had pinned his wrists above his head, leaned down so they were nose to nose, and ground his hips into Will's.

“How do you like your gifts now you've worn them for a while?” Hannibal asked, large hands caressing the leather of the cuffs. “They suit you perfectly. You shall wear them at our next dinner together, I think. You will just be able to eat comfortably in them and I shall sit opposite and look at you wearing them. For me.”

Will groaned a little, finally getting what he wanted. With Hannibal's weight on him and his wrists above his head it was difficult to do much more than just let Hannibal grind into him, and it was glorious.

“Yes, god yes,” Will managed to gasp out. “I like them, they feel like mine already.”

Hannibal fisted his hand in Will's hair and pulled sharply, making him gasp. “No. You belong to me and so do they. They are mine, just like you are.” He leaned down to kiss Will's temple, gentling his hold on Will's curls.

“ _Christ_ , Hannibal.” Will felt dizzy with the rush of want, with the vicious coil of desire unleashed by Hannibal calling him his. He nodded, silently agreeing, desperately trying to rub himself back up against Hannibal. This is what he’d hoped tonight would be like - Hannibal fierce and strong above him, his guests oblivious upstairs, and this delicious secret just between themselves.

“Very good. Shortly I shall return to my guests and see the last of them leave. I want you like this in the meantime. Waiting for me, desperate and ready. Can you do that?”

“Yes, yes-” Will just managed to stop himself from begging Hannibal not to be long.

“When I next return there will be no further preamble. So you had better be ready. Is that understood?”

Will nodded again as Hannibal released his wrists and slid down his body with possessive hands. He sat back on his heels on the bed to survey Will below him - hands still above his head, naked, cock now painfully hard. Will groaned, had to shut his eyes briefly against Hannibal’s scrutiny. It was a strange and powerful thing, to submit and know that by doing so he also commanded Hannibal, turning him loose on himself.

Hannibal reached into his waistcoat pocket and brought out a dark loop of something with a toggle attached. He held it up for Will to see.

“Do you know what this is?”

Will swallowed. “I think I can guess.”

Hannibal gave him a slow smile and grasped Will’s cock firmly. Will arched involuntarily up off the bed with another groan. It was the most intimately Hannibal had touched him all evening. Hannibal slid the loop over the hard length and held it in place at the base while he tightened the toggle, until it sat snugly against his balls. Will gasped at the sensation. Hannibal hummed in satisfaction and leaned down to lick delicately once at the pre-come pooling at the tip.

“I expect you to do as instructed and, soon, I will both reward and punish you accordingly.” Hannibal stood and replaced his jacket, before leaning to press his mouth against Will’s, pushing his tongue inside, stroking his hair from his forehead. Will could taste himself on Hannibal’s tongue. 

“You will be rewarded for obeying my instructions, if you indeed do so, and for _volunteering_ to be introduced to my friends. You will be punished for your earlier bad temper.” Will couldn’t help a little half-smile at that, which Hannibal returned almost fondly. 

“I very much look forward to everyone knowing you are mine,” Hannibal said and, with that comment, left.

 

Will lay as Hannibal left him, arms above his head, cock hard and leaking on his stomach. Hannibal hadn’t been so specific in his instructions but Will wanted to remain there, mirroring the after-image of himself in Hannibal’s mind. He liked knowing Hannibal was upstairs, kissing guests goodbye with a mouth that had moments before tasted him, graciously thanking people for attending while all the time thinking of Will waiting in the basement. He thought about Hannibal’s promise to both reward and punish, and how his small smile showed he knew they were the same thing to Will. 

It was the silence upstairs which alerted Will that the last of guests had departed. The ceaseless murmuring and shuffling above him had lessened during the course of the evening, but now there was a still quiet punctuated only by the occasional sharp ring of china and glass. Hannibal’s helpers would no doubt make short work of this task, especially with Hannibal himself supervising. Will imagined him after these parties, keen to return his sanctuary to its beautiful order, the swift and efficient operation which would leave no trace of any guest behind. Now he had an added motivation, to banish the intrusion of the outside world from Will too, so they could play out their game in privacy.

When Will heard footsteps and the door being unlocked, he could have sighed with relief. From the doorway there was a small intake of breath, and still Will didn’t move, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He wanted Hannibal to read in his unchanged posture an additional level of submission which had not been asked for. 

Hannibal strode unhurriedly to the bed, removing jacket and waistcoat as he did so. He trailed a finger from Will’s ankles, upwards along his leg to the silicone cockring Will wore. Will held his breath. Hannibal tugged gently at the ring, then slowly dragged his finger up the silken skin of Will’s cock. Wetness beaded at the tip, and Will nearly moaned when Hannibal rubbed his finger through it.

“Very nice indeed,” Hannibal breathed, sucking his finger clean. “You have done splendidly.”

Will gasped with need then, just as Hannibal placed his palm on Will’s stomach. He drew it upwards, over his chest to his throat, where it rested lightly with Hannibal’s long fingers curling around his neck. Will shut his eyes, panting, feeling how his throat swelled against Hannibal’s palm.

“Just lovely,” Hannibal praised again. “But we will begin with your punishment.”

Briskly, Hannibal unfastened the rope from the cuffs, and helped Will to sit. Then he fetched Will’s belt from where it was hanging in the bathroom. He stood in front of Will with it looped in his hands, held out for Will to take.

“You will hold this for me while I prepare.”

Will had had the same belt for several years and knew it intimately. Dark brown and polished with use, the leather thick and soft and heavy. A simple dull brass buckle. He remembered the feel of it constricting his arms as Hannibal fucked him, thought of that every time he wore it now. His cock ached at the memory, straining against the cockring.

Hannibal moved the desk chair to the middle of the room. “You are going to stand here and hold onto the back of this chair. You will not let go.”

Will nodded. He knew what was coming.

“You will receive six lashes and after I have finished you will thank me. Is that clear?”

Will stood and walked over to Hannibal, and held the belt out for him to take. “Perfectly.”

Hannibal watched him for a beat, then nodded. “Turn around.”

Will turned his back to Hannibal and wrapped his fingers around the top rung of the chair. He focused on his wrists still encased in the leather cuffs, and heard Hannibal’s swift movement behind him, felt the leather strike flat across his back. One. He couldn’t help the involuntary flinch of his muscles, but it didn’t hurt like the cane had. It made an impressive noise though, a loud smack which echoed in the silence around them, filled now only with the sounds of their breathing.

Hannibal paused a moment to run his palm over Will’s back, feeling the muscles tremble with tension and anticipation. Will gasped, arching back into Hannibal’s warm palm. He felt Hannibal’s breath ghosting over his neck for a brief moment, then another swishing of air before the belt landed across his back again. It was harder this time, and he felt the force of it ring through his body. Will clutched the back of the chair for support. Another followed shortly after, before he’d had time to fully recover and Will let out a shout of surprise and pain. It left him panting, almost grinning at the fierce thrill of it, feeling blood and adrenaline and life coursing through him.

Hannibal placed a steadying hand on his shoulder while the aftershocks worked through Will. He leaned forward to whisper, “You’re doing so beautifully, I could not ask for more. Three more to go, then you will be rewarded.”

Will groaned and nodded, trying to focus on the present moment. He wanted this to last, he realised, wanted to remember each detail, each place the belt struck him, and every soft touch of Hannibal’s hands on his skin.

The next landed hard across the backs of his thighs, the end curling round to lash cruelly at him. Will gasped in surprise, the sting of it markedly different over such a tender area. He heard Hannibal hum in approval, felt him stand close behind, taking in Will’s tight hold of the chair and the tremble in his spread thighs. Then he stepped back suddenly and struck the belt twice in quick succession across Will’s ass. Will fought to keep his feet flat on the floor and his legs straight, knuckles white on the back of the chair. The sensation drove everything else from his mind, a moment of pure clarity. When he opened his eyes he was shaking, and Hannibal’s hands were on him, pulling him close, and he heard Hannibal breathe into his neck, “ _Ti adoro._ ”

Hannibal held him there for a few seconds, then gently unclasped Will’s hands from the chair, briefly caressing them in his own. Will turned around into his embrace, and remembering Hannibal’s instructions managed to breathe out, “Thank you.”

Hannibal hold on him tightened a little, before releasing him. “It’s time for your reward, _tesoro._ ”

As they moved back to the bed, Will felt shaky, unreal. Adrenaline still raced through him, his skin felt electrified, his muscles coiled-tight. He could feel the shock of belt echoing through every part of him. Hannibal knelt before him to uncouple the cuffs at his wrists, then simply gazed up at Will as if holding his breath. Will felt his arm move before he was even conscious of instigating it, bringing his hand softly to Hannibal’s cheek. He held it there for a moment, knowing he’d somehow made a momentous decision without being really aware of it, feeling his fingers push through the strands of Hannibal’s hair and brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. Hannibal remained absolutely still, but there was something reverent in his eyes as he fixed them on Will. Then Will took his hand away and the moment slowly faded. 

Hannibal lowered his eyes, and said “I have another gift for you.” 

From the wardrobe came another expensive-looking box, and Hannibal knelt again as he handed it to Will. Inside were a matching pair of cuffs, but bigger and more substantial, obviously destined for his ankles. Will ran his fingers over them, considering the implications and aware of Hannibal’s keen attention on him. When Will nodded and held the open box out in invitation, Hannibal leaned in to kiss him. It was slow and possessive and determined, and Will’s breath came faster than before.

Hannibal took a little time to fasten the cuffs, playing his fingers over the bones of Will’s ankles. “I know how much you appreciate being immobilised. You will enjoy this I think.”

Will then stood and watched as Hannibal stripped the covers off the bed, and pulled out a strap from under each corner of the mattress.

“Face down on the bed, please,” Hannibal instructed.

Each strap was adjusted and attached to a cuff until Will was held firmly down, with his arms and legs spread. Will pressed his face into the bed and pulled a little at the straps, discovering how limited his range of movement was. He could barely even thrust against the mattress. Hannibal was right, he loved this, held down and unable to move, his cock pressed tightly between the bed and his stomach. _Spread open for Hannibal,_ he thought, and moaned open-mouthed into the mattress.

He felt Hannibal’s hand smooth over his thighs, up to stroke over his ass where it squeezed gently. Will moaned again, tilting his hips to push upwards into Hannibal’s palm, silently begging for Hannibal to touch him. He didn’t have to wait long to feel Hannibal’s slick fingers slide over his balls, upwards to his hole, and for one fingertip to press inside him suddenly. The intrusion was unexpected, and Will gasped at the stretch but the slight soreness was not unwelcome. Hannibal worked at him roughly with the same finger, stroking the delicate skin around his hole, pushing inside to rub at him, stretching and teasing. 

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” said Hannibal, from where he stood at the side of the bed. “Not just for my touch inside you, in your most intimate places, but to be held down, knowing I’m going to fuck you just like this.” He moved to kneel on the bed next to Will, thrust his finger deeper into Will. “If you’d like to struggle, you can. You’re held fast and I won’t stop if you do.”

Will choked out a desperate moan, pulled at his bound arms and all but writhed against the bed. He wanted that terribly, it had been in his mind since almost the first moment Hannibal had touched him, trapped against the kitchen counter. His cock was achingly hard, he was sure he’d have come by now if it wasn’t for the band pulled tight against the base of it. Hannibal slid another finger inside him, scissoring them, then withdrawing and pushing more lube deep inside. When he began to thrust with them, fucking Will with his fingers, it made the most obscene wet noises. Will didn’t think he could take much more.

“Hannibal, please… Do it now.” 

He heard Hannibal pushing his clothing aside, felt him lean over with his arms braced either side of his back, felt his warm breath on his cheek. “Do what? I want you to say it.”

“Fuck me, hard. Like you said - don’t stop if I struggle. Please.”

He felt Hannibal’s warm, wet mouth drag down along his neck, his shoulder, felt his teeth graze lightly at his shoulder-blade. Will shivered at the cold air on his wet skin. Hannibal shifted above him, and Will felt the thick head of Hannibal’s cock press against his entrance. Will moaned a little and dug his knees into the mattress to raise himself as much as he could, then Hannibal pushed inside him in one long, smooth movement. Will gasped aloud, he was so tight around Hannibal, could feel how stretched he was. Hannibal allowed Will to experimentally worked himself on his cock, moaning a little as he did so, then withdrew and pushed roughly back inside. Will cried aloud, and pulled at the straps restraining his arms again. Hannibal retaliated by placing his palms on Will’s shoulders and leaning his weight onto them, trapping him against the mattress and using the leverage to fuck into him. Will made a choked noise which was mostly swallowed by the mattress, and began to yank at his restraints in earnest, twisting his body under Hannibal, forcing Hannibal to pin him down. The air around them was filled with harsh panting as they struggled together.

Will could feel his orgasm build, sensations crashing together in his body and in his mind. He felt strangely free, released of all limits and obligations. He revelled in the weight of Hannibal, restricting him, and it drove him to push harder and harder, to struggle more, so Hannibal had to hold him ever more fast. One of Hannibal’s hands was gripping his shoulder, the other his hip, pulling Will against himself so he could drive deep into him. Will moaned into the bed and twisted under Hannibal, who shifted to lean his full weight onto Will’s back. The pressure of Hannibal bearing down between his shoulderblades pushed Will hard into the mattress, making his breathing come in short, sharp gasps.

“Oh God, Hannibal, I’m gonna-” Will managed.

In between deep, hard thrusts, he heard Hannibal say, “I told you I wouldn’t stop, didn’t I?”

Will writhed at the sound of him, so sure and in control. Hannibal leaned over to bite him sharply on the meat of his neck. Will groaned harshly and came, feeling his release spurt between his stomach and the bed. Hannibal barely paused and continued to fuck him hard, holding both his hips now, pulling him back onto his cock, before coming deep inside him with a low moan. 

Will shifted under Hannibal’s weight as he moved to lay on top of him. Blood was still thrumming hard in his veins, though sleepiness was already creeping up on him. They were both sweaty and sticky and he knew he should move, but his limbs were aching from the effort they’d expended. Still tied down, Will didn’t remember the exact time he slipped into sleep.

 

The sensation of Hannibal unfastening his ankle cuffs from the straps woke Will. His arms were already free. He curled them under his head as if to go back to sleep, but Hannibal ruffled a hand through his hair and said gently, “Shower.”

Will huffed a little but obliged, climbing out of bed on half-awake, wobbly limbs. In the shower he leaned sleepily on Hannibal. His body felt comfortably heavy and solid, like he’d borrowed some of Hannibal’s self assurance. Hannibal folded his arms around him and seemed to content to remain there, rinsing them under the spray. He was clearly thoughtful but when Will looked into his face he could glimpse only a slight wistfulness. Will nudged his nose against Hannibal’s, and kissed him.

Will was left nested in the clean blankets and pillows, retrieved from the floor where they'd been unceremoniously dumped, while Hannibal left for the kitchen. Will slowly drifted back to himself, the skin of his back tender and sore like sunburn. Occasionally he shifted his position to feel anew the drag of expensive cotton across it. He hadn't bothered to clothe himself after showering, preferring to wrap himself loosely in Hannibal's sheets.

Hannibal returned very shortly with a silver lidded tray, wine and two glasses. He climbed in beside Will and arranged a kind of picnic on the bed which they could eat comfortably together. There was a delicate-looking meat dish, stuffed and skewered, and beautifully presented with tomato roses, which Hannibal informed him was beef heart. There were grapes and cheese instead of dessert. Will didn’t ever think he’d enjoyed food so much before. 

Will was perfectly content to sit in silence but eventually he felt drawn to comment on Hannibal's quietness. He ran the backs of his knuckles over Hannibal's hand where it rested on the bedsheets, focused on the rich deep blue of his robe. 

“I agreed to meet your friends because I want to. Yes, I needed persuading but-” Will broke off, unsure how to continue. “It's not going to be fun for me, no, but I want people to know. About you and me. I don't want any Mrs Pennington’s seeing us together and being under any other impression than the truth.”

“The truth? Still jealous, Will?”

Will lifted his gaze to Hannibal's face. Hannibal was watching Will's hand where it rested on his own.

“No… I feel… possessive. That's a much better word. If I am yours, then you are mine too. That's how this works between us.” 

Hannibal captured Will's hand in between his own. “I am unused to it working that way, you must forgive my recent silence this evening.” 

Will moved closer, pressed into his side, kissed his shoulder. “You didn't need to speak. You brought me a heart on a silver platter instead.” Hannibal's arm came up around him, pulling him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hannibal's Leda and the Swan painting](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Attribu%C3%A9_%C3%A0_Fran%C3%A7ois_Boucher,_L%C3%A9da_et_le_Cygne_\(vers_1740\).jpg) is by Francois Boucher, and NBC actually censored it! (Not always successfully, I think Bryan managed to sneak a few in.)
> 
> I see Hannibal shopping somewhere like Coco de Mer. Here are [Will's wrist cuffs](http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/coco-de-mer-brown-leather-wrist-cuffs-sm/), [ankle cuffs](http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/coco-de-mer-brown-leather-ankle-cuffs/) and [cock ring](http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/coco-de-mer-adjustable-cock-ring/), if you're interested :)


	6. Chapter 6

On the morning of the paediatrics charity benefit, Will woke to find himself hard and rutting against the mattress. He’d dreamed of Hannibal - a Hannibal who had trapped his wrists painfully behind his back and spread his thighs far apart with his knees, who’d let him struggle and moan and protest and plead for more as he moved forcefully within him. Will could still feel the heat and weight of him, Hannibal’s hands grinding the bones of Will’s wrists together, breath on the back of Will’s neck. Will rolled over to his back and threw back the bedsheets.

Tonight was to be his public debut as Hannibal’s...lover? Significant other? Pet? Will hadn't a clue how Hannibal would introduce him and found he didn’t particularly care. As long as it was clear he was Hannibal’s and that Hannibal belonged to him too, that was all he wanted. He didn't know when that had happened, when the strange draw they had for each other had deepened into this need for public ownership. Perhaps it's intensity should concern him but it was difficult to worry when he felt so genuinely and wholly wanted.

Though the prospect of spending the evening in a crowd wasn’t pleasing, meeting these people held no fears for him. He wanted to publicly stake his claim on Hannibal, and it would be worth it to do that. And there was an appeal to moving in Hannibal's circles, smiling and nodding and no one suspecting the complex dynamics which bound them together. Perhaps these acquaintances of Hannibal’s would even get a glimpse of things really stood between them - a heated glance perhaps. Or Hannibal’s dominant, possessive hands on him, briefly resting somewhere too intimate for such a public gathering. Smiling to himself, he went to jerk off in the shower.

 

After work he drove to Hannibal’s for an early dinner, and apparently also to give Hannibal the chance to appraise his appearance. He had rented a tuxedo from a tailor recommended by Hannibal, and stood patiently while Hannibal perfected his bowtie. 

“If tonight is not too awful for you perhaps you’ll let me have one made for you. You may have other occasions to wear it.”

“Yes, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? And then it would be ‘since they have your measurements, how about a nice suit in blue?’”

“Blue is an excellent colour for you.”

“You just want to dress me up. And then strip me back down to nothing again.”

“And what is so wrong with that? Would you let me, if I asked?”

“Depends how nicely you ask.” Hannibal finished adjusting and Will briefly checked himself in the mirror. “Just remember I only really wear a suit when I’m giving evidence in court.” He turned around to press a quick, teasing kiss to Hannibal’s smiling mouth.

Hannibal captured his arms, crowding him a little and bowing his head to speak low in Will's ear. “If I told you to, you would. You would allow me to take you to my tailor and I would watch while you were measured. I would choose the fabrics which would clothe you, the fit, the style, everything, down to the very last detail. I would take my time and you would wait obediently while I did. I would be present for every subsequent fitting. Maybe I would refuse you release until your new suit was ready and then when it was, I would make you spoil it in under five minutes.”

“ _Fuck,_ Hannibal.” Will rested his forehead on Hannibal’s shoulder, almost laughing at how quickly the words affected him. “We’re just about to go out - you can’t say things like that _now_.” Silent vibrations in Hannibal’s chest told him he was laughing too.

“Perhaps you should just let me have what I want when I ask for it politely then.”

Will kissed him properly then, his heart warm and happy. 

 

Just as Will had predicted, the ballroom was grand, the food scarce and the guests rich. The noise of a couple of hundred people talking echoed around the high ceiling, magnifying it. Will already felt burdened by the press of voices. He adjusted his glasses, preparing himself.

There was a frisson of interest directed at them almost as soon as they walked in. Will had his suspicions about how well-known Hannibal was and what position he occupied in society, and felt they were about to be confirmed. They had barely entered the ballroom when someone broke away from a nearby cluster and approached Hannibal with a practised and insincere greeting.

“Why Hannibal, I was hoping to see you here. It's been much too long,” she exclaimed, and then paused and looked expectantly between the two of them.

_Oh no, here we go,_ Will thought automatically, and opened his mouth to introduce himself. However before he could make a sound Hannibal smoothly took over. 

Bending to kiss her hand, he said, “Mrs Henley, you are correct, it has been too long. l believe I had to miss the operatic society fundraiser Saturday last for a prior commitment.” Here Hannibal left the tiniest pause and Will could see Mrs Henley thirsting for more information underneath her well-worn social mask. It must be quite the scoop to be the first person in the room to have inside information on him, and Hannibal clearly knew it. 

Hannibal continued, briefly squeezing Will's forearm before moving his hand to Will’s lower back. “May I introduce Will Graham? He’s not much of a social butterfly but has generously agreed to endure the horror of this evening for my sake.”

Hannibal turned to Will and gave him a wide, warm smile as Mrs Henley looked on, clearly delighted to have the rumours confirmed in such immediate proximity. Will just about managed to avoid rolling his eyes at Hannibal but ended up projecting a kind of exasperated affection that only played into Hannibal’s hands.

“Very pleased to meet you, Mr Graham,” she said. “I hope you won’t be too horrified by us, we’re not that bad really, despite occasional appearances. But I see you don't even have a drink yet! You must forgive me for pouncing on you as soon as you arrived.” 

Mrs Henley stepped back a little, as if graciously granting them space to continue their evening pounce-free, but Will could sense her desire to get back the group that stood in the corner. “No doubt we'll catch up later, Hannibal - simply lovely to see you again”. She gave a little wave and disappeared in the midst of a crowd who were just arriving.

“No, we won't, because she has everything she needs now,” said Hannibal as they walked away. “However it's to our benefit as soon everyone will know who you are, and we can concentrate on introducing you to the people I would like you to meet.”

Will snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray, feeling he might need it. “‘Prior commitment?’ That was me, wasn’t it?”

Hannibal gave him a long slow smile. “I sent a donation rather than appearing in person. As important as opera is to me, I felt my mind would have been elsewhere if I’d attended.”

“More important than opera? I’m flattered.” Will smiled back, for a moment forgetting why they were there, and causing him to wonder if he would enjoy this occasionally. Going to places with Hannibal, restaurants and the theatre and wherever else, flirting and enjoying each other’s company and then going home together. 

It couldn’t last. A succession of introductions followed as Hannibal moved them skilfully around the room, meeting key people and politely escaping before Will could feel trapped. No one was surprised Hannibal had brought a man as his date, and Hannibal himself was attentive, discreetly demonstrative and somehow managed to convey the impression they were a couple without once describing their relationship. Will found that at worst he was simply an object of curiosity. At best he was able to hold reasonably intelligent conversations with reasonably intelligent people, if not socially light ones. He realised his mistake to answer the question “ _What do you do?”_ slightly too honestly almost as soon as the words _psychological profiling_ and _FBI_ left his mouth. His audience were rapt and, judging by the questions they asked, avid readers of _TattleCrime._ Seeing the frown developing on his face, Hannibal moved them along to the next group.

Aside from a memorable and, for Will, deeply satisfying encounter with Mrs Pennington - where Hannibal asked politely after her daughter whilst he stood very close to Will with his arm casually at Will’s waist - each introduction was much the same. However there were a tiny handful who stood out as having a better understanding of Hannibal than most, and who were on some level playing the same game of society as he was. To these Will was of especial interest.

Will had a couple of glasses of champagne under his belt by then and when the tray came back around, he whispered in Hannibal’s direction, “Isn’t there anything else? Surely no one can drink more than a couple of glasses.”

“I expect there will be some very good Scotch at the bar,” Hannibal replied. “Allow me.”

Hannibal excused himself, leaving Will hovering on the edge of the group. Mrs Komeda, one of Hannibal's closer social allies took the opportunity for a tete a tete, or perhaps just took pity on his awkwardness, and drew Will aside.

“I must say I never expected to see Hannibal like this with anyone - it's truly delightful. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s always seemed such a solitary creature. The way he dotes on you is too precious.”

Will smiled knowingly but inside he was laughing. He thought of last week, how Hannibal had bade him to kneel, parted his lips and slid his cock between them. How he'd gripped his hair, tilting his head to bare his throat, fucked his mouth and made Will swallow him. How Hannibal loved to bite, to make Will yelp and buck back against him, how pleased he looked when he surveyed the damage to Will's skin. Being doted on by Hannibal might not be what Mrs Komeda was expecting.

Will looked over to where Hannibal stood at the bar with Will's drink in his hand, temporarily detained in conversation with an elderly gentleman. Will knew what everyone else in the room saw as they looked at him - mannered, handsome and charming, if reserved. What came to Will’s mind just then was the look on his face when he called Will his. And how afterwards Will would feel kissed into his skin words so quiet as to be inaudible, or perhaps hear a stray foreign phrase whispered into his hair. Deliberately done just so Will knew what was meant and could pretend to not know. In that moment, Will thought he saw Hannibal wholly and clearly - so elegantly savage and controlled, but lonely too, and with such a deep and romantic heart. The knowledge flared something fiercely possessive and protective inside of him.

Will turned back to Mrs Komeda, and said with a polite smile, “I assure you I dote on him just as much.”

When Hannibal returned and passed Will his glass, Will made sure to kiss him in thanks, chastely but unmistakably, on the corner of his mouth. The look of surprised pleasure in Hannibal’s eyes was worth any amount of interested stares he might receive.

 

After almost two hours of circulating and making small talk, Will found himself close to the limits of his endurance. A couple more whiskeys had helped - Will had begun to understand the shortage of food was a deliberate choice, intended to keep the guests in a perfect state of pre-inebriation - but it seemed he’d had the exact same conversation three times with three different people and he was sure that by now Hannibal had accomplished exactly what he wanted. Hannibal however, was still going strong, clearly enjoying himself immensely. Will knew if he said he wanted to leave, Hannibal would immediately and courteously grant him his wish, but he found himself reluctant to ask. _It would be much better_ , decided Will, _if Hannibal determined to leave of his own accord,_ and excused himself to the bathroom.

The men’s room was almost palatial. It had the same high ceilings as the ballroom with its own foyer and a large, thickly-carpeted washing area with huge mirrors. Will smirked at the vision he had of Hannibal standing there, checking the line of his suit, before going back out onto his social stage. He went through the doorway which led to the stalls and chose one right at the end, as far away from the washbasins as possible. Thankfully, there was no attendant on duty so he could proceed with his plan uninhibited.

Once inside, he took off his jacket, leaned back against the door and unzipped himself. Will shut his eyes and imagined himself far away from the noise of two hundred people shuffling, talking and laughing in a large echoing space. He palmed his cock and thought back to his dream of that morning, and of Hannibal’s idea of buying him a suit. From out of his inside pocket he brought a little sachet of lube, which he tore open to pool a little into the palm of one hand. He thought about Hannibal, a few dozen feet away, discussing a recent production of _Rigoletto_ with Mr Souza and smiled.

His cock was thickening nicely, and he coated it with a thin layer of lube as he began to stroke himself - just enough to ease his hand over his skin but not enough to make him really slick. He much preferred the drag of his palm anyway - the slight roughness, the way the friction could almost be too much. His head tipped back against the door while he fisted himself a couple of times - the slapping sound in the hushed cubicle caused his face to heat - and then released himself and looked down. Between his shirt-tails his cock jutted out, lazily hard and wet and red at the tip. Will bit his lip to stop his breathing from being too audible and fumbled for his phone. With one hand he grasped his cock again, squeezing and rubbing slightly, until a bead of pre-come welled at the tip. Bringing his phone up close to his face, he took a few photos just as it leaked down his shaft. He brought his hand away and reached for the lube again, slicking up his fingers this time. His dick ached but he resolutely ignored it.

Will turned and shucked his pants and underwear down to his knees. His suit would end up creased but it wouldn’t matter after this. He reached behind himself and began to rub gently over his entrance, while he braced himself on the door with his other hand. He was in a hurry and it wasn’t particularly pleasurable, but he persevered until he had one finger inside himself. His dick had softened but still hung hot and heavy between his legs - he reached down to rub himself again, encouraging himself on. With his forehead against the door he thought about Hannibal, fucking him against the door, or how he could ride him if he sat on the toilet seat. Or even better, what fun they could have in that plush washroom, with Will bent over a sink in front of those mirrors and in full view of anyone who would come in. People would come in and quickly leave, pretending they hadn’t seen anything at all. He had to stifle a small moan, and pushed back deeper onto his finger. He was much looser now and slid in another one, which made a slick wet noise in the hushed space. He reminded himself he just needed enough to be ready, and no more, working himself determinedly, stretching and rubbing until he could comfortably take three fingers. Then he sought his phone again for another picture. By straddling the seat and leaning back with his knees up he just managed to get the angle he wanted, with his fingers deep inside himself. 

He chose the two best photos and sent them to Hannibal before taking a few calming breaths and beginning to clean up.

When he returned to Hannibal he received a small look of concern. Drawing away slightly from the group he was standing in, Hannibal asked, “Are you feeling quite okay? You were gone longer than I expected and now I see you look a touch flushed. Perhaps it’s time for us to leave?”

Will grinned. “I’m perfectly okay, I promise. But I strongly suggest you visit the bathroom and check your phone.”

Hannibal gave him an interested, searching look, taking in anew the flush on Will's cheeks and his teasing grin and made as if to bring out his phone then and there.

Will put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I really do think you’d prefer to be somewhere more private before you look.”

Hannibal dropped his hand. “Very well.”

“I'll be waiting right here.” Will tried not to smirk and only mostly succeeded.

 

When Hannibal returned he sought out Will immediately, apologetically avoiding other claims on his attention by making it seem as if he'd neglected his date. His expression was amused but his eyes were burning.

“If you wanted to leave you need only have asked.”

Will leaned in so only Hannibal could hear. “I thought this was more interesting. Besides, I don't _only_ want to leave.” He could smell Hannibal's cologne and suddenly wanted to rub his face into his neck right there in front of everyone.

Hannibal turned his face as if to kiss his cheek but instead growled softly in his ear. After that they managed leave in under five minutes, including saying the appropriate goodbyes, collecting their coats, and receiving Hannibal's car back from the valet.

The function had been held at what had been a large country home on the outskirts of the city. It stood in it's own park with a long formal drive leading through it. They drove down it in heated silence but on reaching the end Hannibal took a small turning off, instead of pulling out onto the public highway. The turning quickly became a dark and narrow track which wound through a sparse cover of trees. It was likely only used by grounds maintenance and would be deserted at this time of night. Hannibal halted the car under a large spreading tree, a little way down the track. With the engine and lights off it was silent and utterly dark save for the soft illumination of the Bentley's interior. Will waited.

Hannibal took out his phone and opened the messages Will had sent him. Will could just make them out on the screen.

“You enjoy provoking me, don’t you? And also thumbing your nose at polite society.”

Will shrugged carelessly. “You achieved what you wanted to. And I did as I promised.”

Hannibal put the phone down and turned to him, closing some of the distance between them by resting one hand on the back of Will's seat. “What were you hoping to achieve through these pictures, Will?”

Will leaned in close to him. “I thought I’d been quite obvious about that,” he said, and in one movement swung himself out of his seat to neatly straddle Hannibal’s lap. “Do you attend functions there often? Would you like to know which stall I used?”

If Hannibal was surprised to suddenly have Will in his lap, he didn’t show it. He gripped Will’s hips and kissed Will open-mouthed. Will kissed back eagerly, hands in Hannibal's hair as he licked into Hannibal's mouth. Then, breathing hard, Hannibal pulled back.

“Shall I tell you what it is you wished to achieve? You wanted to bring me back to you, a reminder of the power you hold over me. It was your way of bringing me to heel. That really is behaviour I shouldn’t tolerate.”

Hannibal yanked his fly open, causing Will to gasp as he said, “What are you going to do about that?”

“I will need to address the root cause. You are obstinate and perhaps you have not yet understood what it means to obey me.”

Will shivered and kissed him again, hard this time, with biting teeth and hands pushing Hannibal’s jacket off his shoulders. “Now?”

“Anything I give you now will only be positive reinforcement.” Will could see the shark-like flash of Hannibal’s crooked grin in the darkness. “So I may as well be selfish and enjoy what you wish to give me, let you demonstrate exactly how much you want me. You will have to wait for your lesson.” Hannibal slapped him hard on the ass. “Now - up on your knees.”

Will smiled and did as he was told. Hannibal pulled at his pants until they were bunched up around his knees, then cupped his palm over Will’s cock. Will was no longer hard but that was rapidly changing as Hannibal squeezed at him, rolling his dick between his fingers through the thin material. He was still a little tacky from the lube and it was dirty and good and exactly what Will wanted. He held onto the back of the seat for balance and rubbed himself against Hannibal’s hand. 

“No, not like that,” said Hannibal and took his hand away. “I may not teach you that lesson tonight but you’re still going to have to work for it. Show me how you took those pictures. You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

“Christ Hannibal, please? You won't touch me even a little?”

Hannibal ignored his plea and pulled his briefs down as well, then made Will lift his knees so he could slide both his pants and underwear off entirely. He threw them into the backseat. “Now anyone passing by can see what a shameless exhibitionist you are.”

Will made a little noise of want and frustration.

“Don’t deny it, those pictures were artfully taken.” Hannibal ran his hands lightly up Will’s thighs and came to a rest just below his hips. “Show me.”

Will shrugged off his tuxedo and took out another sachet of lube from the inside pocket, before dropping it onto the passenger seat.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “You came prepared?”

Will smirked a little. “I had an idea I might get bored.”

Hannibal leaned in to capture his mouth with his own, biting at his lips. “I see you are in even more need of obedience training than I thought - the rot goes deeper than I feared.” He pulled back. “Continue please.”

Will warmed a little lube in his hand then, fixing his eyes on Hannibal’s, he wrapped his fingers around his cock firmly and thrust slowly into his fist. He could feel the drag of skin on skin and knew what it looked like, the slide of his thickening cock pulling out of his hand, the faint sheen of lube on his skin in the dim interior light of the car. Hannibal watched the motion of his hand and hips, very still and almost expressionless.

“You seem very aware of yourself, of how you appear. Tell me - do you do this when you’re alone, perhaps watching yourself in a mirror?”

Will moaned and gripped himself harder. 

“Yes, I know you like being watched. You didn’t think that was a secret, did you?”

“God, Hannibal-” Will felt a rush of not-quite-shame. It was so exposing, having Hannibal pick him apart, and he loved it. “Yes, sometimes but- _god-_ I like to imagine it’s you, watching me.”

Hannibal hummed in satisfaction. The car was filled with the sound of Will’s harsh breathing and the slap of skin as he fucked his fist harder. 

“Perhaps I should take my own photos of you, to enjoy at my leisure?” Hannibal said thoughtfully, then laughed a little at Will’s answering groan. “Slow down. There’s something else you need to show me,” and passed Will the open sachet of lube.

Will took his hand away and tried to compose himself. “Really? Here?”

“Turn around first. I will enjoy thinking about you bending over my steering wheel on Monday morning.”

Legs shaking slightly, Will did as he was told and tried not to think too much about what he was doing, how Hannibal knew exactly which buttons to press, how he trod a constant path between embarrassment and desire, and how good Hannibal was at pushing him. Facing the steering wheel, he squeezed the remaining lube out of the packet and onto his fingers. Then he leaned forward and with one hand held the wheel for balance, while he reached behind him with the other. He hesitated briefly, swallowing at the thought of Hannibal behind him, exactly as he’d fantasised about. He shut his eyes, could see himself from Hannibal’s perspective, spread open above him, and felt his face heat. Then he slid his hand down between his cheeks, smearing lube as he went, and when he reached his hole pushed a finger inside. He was still loose from earlier, and he felt rather than heard Hannibal’s quiet exhale as he slid another finger inside easily.

“Very nice. But you seem a little reluctant - you weren't so shy earlier. You should be able to put on a better show than that for me.”

Will clutched at the steering wheel. _Performing for Hannibal, yes_ , he thought.He bent further over, tried to spread his thighs more and concentrated on sliding his fingers slowly and deliberately in and out. The wet sounds they made seemed obscene, and he added a little tilt of his hips to push back on them. If he could just hold on, Hannibal would fuck him - just pull him into his lap and have him ride him, right there in his ridiculously expensive car. 

“Much better,” Hannibal said approvingly. “Now tell me how you got to this state so quickly in the bathroom? What were you thinking about?”

“If I tell you, will you fuck me?”

“Now you're trying to bargain with me. That is not how it works, Will.” Hannibal lazily drew a finger down the round curve of Will's ass, and demanded, “Tell me.”

Will groaned in frustration and defeat. “Fine. I thought about you there with me, in the stall. Then I thought about you fucking me over the washbasins, in front of the mirrors, and where anyone could walk in and see. What your friends would think if they saw us like that.”

Behind him, Hannibal hummed in pleasure at the admission, and brought both hands up to squeeze Will's ass. With his thumbs he pressed upwards, along the inside of his thighs, behind his balls, sliding up to where Will's own fingers were buried deep inside him. Then without warning he gently pushed one inside, teasing his entrance at first but Will was open enough to take it without too much trouble. Will groaned loudly, rocking back against their joined digits, gasping at the wet sound it made as they both now thrust into his tight heat.

“Delightful,” praised Hannibal. “I bet you had no idea you'd end up like this when you made that first appointment with me. Did you know you were such an exhibitionist?”

Will could barely form a coherent answer. It was wonderful how Hannibal could get his brain to switch off and to instead reduce him to pure need, creating a space for him to do all kinds of things he'd never have dreamed of doing. 

“Please, Hannibal.”

“Please what? Be specific.”

Will actually banged his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. On Hannibal's beautiful, pristine, expensive leather steering wheel.

“You know what I want- _Ah- Fuck me_. Please.”

Hannibal slowly slid his other thumb inside Will, cautiously but deliberately. Will almost cried in frustration, felt the sob rise in his chest, able to do nothing more than pant harshly at the sensation of fullness.

“Ask me once more, as nicely as you can. I can hear you snarl when you speak.”

Will took a deep breath, steadying himself, tried desperately to expunge everything but pleading neediness from his voice. He knew Hannibal would take every opportunity to torment him, any reason to draw it out. “ _Hannibal, I need you inside me, please…_ ”

Hannibal withdrew his thumbs from Will and stilled Will's own fingers, before drawing those out also. Will moved to hold both hands tightly to the steering wheel, conscious of the mess his slippery fingers were making on the expensive leather and utterly delighted by it. He felt Hannibal lean forward in his seat, then felt the broad flat of his tongue lick over his entrance once. Warm breath puffed over his skin as Hannibal spoke.

“Turn back around. I want to see your face as you come.”

Legs trembling now, Will awkwardly complied, now kneeling up facing Hannibal. Hannibal had mostly kept his composure except for the intentness of his gaze and the way he was lazily stroking his cock, now free of his pants. He reached for Will, took hold of his hips and pulled him closer, and began to unbutton his shirt with one hand. Hannibal smiled up at him, brushing a thumb over Will's nipples.

“I'm not going to fuck you-” Will interrupted with a moan of desperate frustration. “But you may take what you need from me.”

Hannibal pulled Will closer, and closed his lips around one of Will’s nipples, grazing it with his teeth. He caught Will’s gaze and said, “I've enjoyed watching you so much, I think you should continue. Show me how much you love feeling me inside you.”

“Yes, yes, _fuck,_ yes,” Will didn’t care how eager he sounded as he scrambled into position over Hannibal, reaching for his cock to guide him in. The first thick push of him caused him to groan loudly, and it was _so easy_ and Will found he could just slide down on Hannibal, taking him all in one smooth movement. He sat for a moment, panting, joyous, and was suddenly struck by a ferocious desire to claim, to show Hannibal exactly how he felt and who he belonged to. The sudden shift from desperation to triumph was dizzying. He had Hannibal exactly where he wanted him, fucking him filthily in his car instead of at a pretentious social event. He almost laughed in delight and placed his hands squarely on Hannibal's shoulders, for leverage, but also internally chanting _mine, mine, mine._

Will began to ride him fast and hard, working his hips and chasing his pleasure on Hannibal’s cock. He watched as Hannibal looked up at him, desire and lust and adoration in his eyes, letting Will take what he needed. He kissed Hannibal fiercely, hands in his hair, tongue sliding against his own, panting in his mouth as he rushed toward orgasm. It was like flying, just being able to take this from Hannibal. There were no barriers, he could have whatever he wanted. Hannibal kissed him back just as hard, and true to his word he remained restrained, with his hands in Will's hair or nowhere at all. Will pulled back a little and gripped his cock to jerk himself roughly, grinning wildly and panting and drinking in the sight of Hannibal of below him. His hair was rumpled and his face was flushed and he wore an expression which said he'd eat Will alive if he could. _Mine, mine, mine_ , thought Will, and when Hannibal grabbed his hips suddenly to pull him down, to hold him in place as he finally began to fuck him, Will realised he'd been shouting it aloud, and then he was coming and it didn't matter anymore. Hannibal pulled Will hard against himself and thrust up erratically, before he too was coming, silently except for stuttered exhaled breaths hot on Will's neck. 

They remained there for a short while - Will astride Hannibal's lap, Hannibal's head on Will's shoulder - both of them breathing hard, hot and sweaty, until Will pulled Hannibal’s head back to kiss him deeply, glorying in how yielding his mouth was to his own.

“Thanks for a very enjoyable night out,” said Will, in between little bites and kisses to Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal's eyes crinkled in amusement. “The credit is all yours, _tesoro_.”

They cleaned up as much as possible. Will retrieved his discarded pants from the back seat but regretted the missed opportunity to sit with his bare ass on Hannibal's leather passenger seat all the way home. It would be delightfully disrespectful to such a tasteful, plush interior and he suspected Hannibal would love it too, despite the amount of specialist cleaning it would need afterwards. Hannibal only made a small face at the mess Will had made on the steering wheel and Will tried not to look too smug as he wiped at it with a handkerchief.

They were quiet on the journey home, though Hannibal's hand crept onto Will's thigh at intervals. Will was almost asleep upon reaching Hannibal's house, curled into the passenger seat and breathing deep and even. Hannibal roused him with a squeeze on his leg.

They showered and prepared for bed in a manner which was almost domestic. There were little kisses and small touches as they passed each other, and shared glances in the mirror. Recently, a new toothbrush had appeared in Hannibal's bathroom, as well as clothing for Will to wear in bed or in the mornings. They clearly were not Hannibal's and also weren't much different from what Will might wear at home, although new and well-made - very soft, thin cotton t-shirts and pyjama bottoms not made of silk or cashmere. Will accepted these gestures without comment and Hannibal never showed any signs he wished to discuss it.

When Will came out of the bathroom, Hannibal was reading in bed. He climbed in beside him as Hannibal shut his book and put it aside.

“Did I pass the test tonight?” Will asked, as he lay down and made himself comfortable. “What did your friends think of me?”

“They think you are fascinating and rather enigmatic and very good-looking.” Hannibal said with a smile, rolling over to put an arm around Will.

Will snorted in amusement, and turned into Hannibal’s side, pressing his face into the warm space of Hannibal’s neck and wrapping his arm tightly around him. They lay there quietly for a short while, feeling their breathing settle and synchronise.

Hannibal broke the silence. “If anyone else had acted like you did tonight I really would have punished them,” he said, as if thinking aloud. He turned and rested his chin on Will’s head, held him a little tighter. “Genuine punishment, something to endure. I can make grown men cry and then thank me for it.”

Will tilted his head to see his face. “Are you going to?”

Hannibal didn’t answer but instead commented thoughtfully, “You were named very well, you know - it must be really something to see when you fully exert your will.”

Will laughed and rested his head back on Hannibal, sleepy and comfortable. “You're a sadist who wants to take care of me. And I am your very possessive sub who doesn't want you to think about anyone or anything else. None of this makes any sense, Hannibal, but that's just how we are. I like it.”

Hannibal paused, obviously turning this over in his mind. “It’s very inconvenient,” he concluded, but he didn’t sound unhappy about it. He placed a kiss on Will's forehead, as Will smiled against his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For perfectly legitimate work purposes I happened upon some images of a typical [Bentley interior](http://www.autoevolution.com/reviews/bentley-continental-gt-w12-test-drive-2013-interior.html) and knew I had to write car sex. Go look, it's just ridiculous.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read so far and given me such lovely feedback. This is my first ever fic so it really means a lot <3
> 
> It's now looking like there will be 12 chapters (11 in total plus an epilogue) but that's still not written in stone. There may also be a longer gap in between posting chapters while I work on the last two or three simultaneously so it all knits together. If you would like more updates on progress, you can always [check my blog](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/).

The morning after the charity benefit, Will woke to find that Hannibal was still in bed with him. Usually, Hannibal was an early riser who left Will to sleep and find his own way downstairs for breakfast. Occasionally he slipped back into bed to wake Will in deliberately interesting ways. This morning, however, he was stretched out on his back beside Will, dressed in the pyjama pants he’d slept in. Pleased to find him there, Will shuffled over to press his face into Hannibal’s warmth and solidity, not quite ready to open his eyes and welcome the day.

Hannibal’s arm came up around him, and Will felt a hand stroke repeatedly along his back. It was soothing, and Will lay there peacefully. He had almost slipped into a doze when he was roused by Hannibal’s voice.

“Do you think your dog sitter would be available this weekend? I'd like to keep you here until Sunday afternoon, if that's acceptable.”

Will took a few moments to process that and then said, carefully, “ _Keep me here?_ ”

“Yes, I thought we might re-visit what we discussed last night - your obedience. If not, we can schedule it for a later date.”

Will rolled away and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I don’t think I’m awake enough for this conversation.” He knew Hannibal had been serious about teaching him a lesson but had at least expected to have breakfast first. “What would it involve?”

“You would need to release your expectations and focus purely on obeying me. That is all.”

Still struggling to catch up with Hannibal’s mood, Will said, “I thought that’s what I had been doing.”

“Not quite. You have focused on what you want from our arrangement and your expectations of it have been based on that premise.”

“You know, it’s unfair of you to want to talk about this now when I’m barely conscious and you’ve clearly been awake for ages.” Will tried to convince himself that there was some alternative meaning he was missing. After the intimacy of last night, when he’d felt so comfortable and happy, he was stung by the term Hannibal used to describe their relationship - _arrangement._ “The way you explained this to me, right at the beginning - you spoke about fulfilling your subject’s needs _._ Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Needs and wants are different things. As I said last night, you need to learn what it means to obey me, for it’s own sake and not just because you like it.” Hannibal regarded him at length, expression unreadable. “I won’t lie - I think you will find that challenging.”

Will bristled at the implication Hannibal was making, and couldn't help but reply, “So my previous attempts at submission weren't good enough for you?”

Hannibal turned and slipped his arms around Will. In a softer and more appeasing tone, he said, “You've given me everything I've asked for and beautifully too. But now I'm asking for something else.”

There was a long pause as Will considered how different the situation he’d woken up to was compared to the one he’d fallen asleep in. Though he’d trusted Hannibal this far and had found it to his benefit, he felt an unease and was distantly reminded of the misunderstandings of his previous failed relationships. To wake believing one thing only to be told that it was wrong, and that the opposite was true. He passed a hand over his eyes, and pressed at his temples. Perhaps he had been selfish, or had missed some cue Hannibal had given him. He thought about the precise words Hannibal had used - _you need to learn what it means to obey me, for it’s own sake and not just because you like it._ Maybe Hannibal just wanted a token of fealty, something to demonstrate that Will was interested in more than just getting off. An image from the previous night swam unbidden into his mind - how pleased and obviously surprised Hannibal had been when he’d publicly kissed him. He sighed - whatever it was that Hannibal wanted he would try to give.

“I'll go call the dog sitter now, and see if she’s free.”

 

After a quiet breakfast and with the arrangements made, Hannibal gave him notice that he had a little over an hour of free time to call his own. They would begin at precisely noon and continue until noon the next day. Within this time period Will was to concentrate on entirely on Hannibal’s command, and nothing more.

“I suggest you go enjoy your remaining hour of freedom, Will. After then, you will not even decide if you are to sit or stand.”

For the first time in a few weeks, Will felt entirely uncertain. Hannibal sat opposite him, finishing his coffee and reading, dressed in his usual casual sweater and slacks. He looked exactly the same as he did over any of their lazy weekend mornings together yet there was an undercurrent of something new. Will tried to justify to himself why he found this more unsettling than Hannibal beating him with a belt, and failed to return an answer. Feeling the only thing to do was to see where it went, Will agreed.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. And as today will be a different experience, instead of using your safeword, I will ask you at intervals how you feel and you will answer either red, amber or green. Understood?”

“...yes, okay.”

Feeling somewhat dismissed from Hannibal’s presence, Will went to find something to occupy his mind with. He wondered if he should use the time before noon to achieve a more open and suitable mindset, but instead browsed Hannibal's books with a second cup of coffee. It seemed to him that the less room he had to speculate, the better.

At exactly noon, Hannibal appeared silently at the doorway.

“It is time to begin, Will.” 

Will closed his book and instinctively sat up straighter, raising his eyes to Hannibal as he walked to stand before him.

“The only rules are these. You must do everything I ask willingly. When I ask how you feel you will respond with a colour, immediately and honestly. No other information is required unless I specifically tell you to expand further. You will not speak before you’re spoken to, except to ask for my permission if you are not sure something is allowed - eating, drinking and comfort breaks included.”

Will nodded, unsure if they'd started already.

“Good. Go and fetch your wrist cuffs.”

This was more familiar territory and Will felt a slow uncoiling of anticipation as he went downstairs to collect them. The basement playroom was increasingly personalised to their shared use, no longer so anonymous as when it was used for Hannibal’s clients. Taking the cuffs out of the antique mahogany box on the dressing table, Will was reassured. Surrounded by so many physical reminders of their relationship it was easier to be more confident of it. 

When he returned, Hannibal was sitting in the chair he'd been reading in. He hovered a little in the doorway, unsure of what was required of him now.

Hannibal looked up from the book Will had been reading. “You may come here.”

As he crossed the room, Hannibal held his hand out for the cuffs, and said, “Roll your sleeves up and hold out your wrists.”

While waiting for Will to comply, Hannibal unclipped the cuffs so they were no longer joined together. Will watched, confused, as Hannibal fastened them one a time around his wrists like glorified leather bracelets. He’d thought perhaps Hannibal was going to lead him around the house, or tie him up and leave him somewhere, or just watch him as he struggled to do ordinary things with his wrists bound. 

“Sit.”

Will looked up at Hannibal in surprise. The command was exactly that - a stern command, like he'd give to a dog who had slipped his training. Hannibal regarded him steadily yet also like he was daring Will to disobey. Will's legs folded beneath him and he found himself sitting at Hannibal's feet.

“Well done.”

Hannibal reached out and stroked his fingers just once through Will's hair, and Will realised he'd passed the first test. He leaned into Hannibal’s touch, surprised to find how important it was to him. Before he could stop himself, he laid a palm on Hannibal’s thigh, just soaking in the warmth bleeding through the fabric.

Swiftly, Hannibal wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist and yanked his hand away, almost violently. “No.”

Will met his eyes, startled. He’d broken a rule but it was accidental and this was only a game. Wasn’t it?

“Not a good start. Explain to me what you did wrong, so I know it won’t happen again.” Hannibal said, his voice flinty and hard.

“I touched you without permission,” Will said quietly, with a frown of confusion. Without quite knowing why he added, “I’m sorry.” And he found he genuinely was and that this suddenly didn’t seem like a game at all. 

Hannibal nodded an acknowledgement and went back to reading, as Will sat quietly and wondered how to feel. He yearned to be able to get closer to Hannibal, to rest his head on his knee maybe, or to run his hand over his calf; even to just hold onto the material of his trousers. But he hadn't been given permission and so he stayed exactly as he was. He supposed he should feel humiliated but he didn't. Was it possible to feel humiliated about not feeling humiliated? He stayed silent and waited, studying the thick tufts of the carpet and listening to the pages turn above him as they marked the passing of time.

After maybe half an hour, Hannibal closed the book and turned his attention back to Will. 

“Our lunch reservation is in an hour and you have fifteen minutes to get ready. I have laid some clothes out for you in the bedroom. You will change into them and prepare yourself to go out, then meet me back here.”

Once again, Will was shaken out of himself. His thoughts had drifted with the steady beat of his pulse, with only Hannibal’s rather cold, silent presence to ground him. They’d reached something complicated together - both intense and private - yet now Hannibal wanted to move this out into the public arena. He couldn’t make any sense of it.

“Colour, please.”

Will frowned, his feelings confused and jumbled. “Amber.”

“Good. Go and get ready now.”

Unsure if by ‘good’ Hannibal meant he’d answered properly or if it was good that he was uncomfortable, Will went upstairs to get changed. He knew from experience that if he could focus on Hannibal’s instructions as they came rather than thinking ahead, he would be fine. But already this seemed more difficult even than the first time Will had returned to Hannibal knowing what he sought from him.

On the bed were versions of clothing he could have chosen for himself except far more expensive. There was a crisply-pressed cobalt-blue shirt, grey suit pants and on the floor a pair of shiny black shoes. To change into the shirt he had to unfasten its cuffs to slide the sleeves over his own leather ones, and then roll them up. Once fully-dressed again, he checked himself in the mirror. The wrist cuffs drew his eyes - was Hannibal really going to take him out in public with them on? It was just possible they could be taken for a fashion accessory, but they were too substantial for that to bear up under closer scrutiny. The fastenings and buckle were so obvious, added to the fact that he wore one on each wrist... Surely anyone who looked twice would be able to tell what they were.

Hannibal was already waiting when he returned, just after slightly less than fifteen minutes had passed. It had not taken him that long to dress but Will had lingered, unwilling to be too early. 

Hannibal circled Will from a distance and when his assessment was complete said, “Perfect. Are you ready to leave, Will?”

If anything, the doubts rose more strongly in Will’s mind. “... yes.”

“You don't sound sure. How are you feeling?”

Will’s thoughts settled on the leather cuffs. “Amber.”

“Amber again?” Hannibal looked closely at him. “Tell me why you're feeling uncomfortable.”

Will gestured at the cuffs. “Are you really taking me out in public in these?”

“Yes. Why is that a problem?”

“Because everyone will see. It's obvious what they are.”

“Yes. They will see and they will know,” agreed Hannibal.

Will was struck with the sudden understanding of Hannibal’s intentions and felt his face heat in anger. And also, he realised with a flush of shame, partly with desire too. It was mortifying to have his exhibitionism of last night thrown back at him, and yet still he craved Hannibal and wanted his touch, his warmth. Hannibal was punishing him by withdrawing his affection - a reminder to Will it should not be taken for granted. It hurt just as much as could be expected. 

He nodded tightly and followed Hannibal to the car, at a loss to know what else to do except see what else Hannibal had planned for him. 

 

The restaurant was set out for a relatively relaxed lunch service but still met Hannibal's usual luxurious standards. The heavy linen tablecloths and glittering array of highly polished glass and silverware were suggestive of how it would appear in the evenings. Currently it was bright and airy, and the clientele dressed for business lunches or an afternoon of languid shopping, rather than pre-theatre dining.

They were seated and handed menus printed on heavy, textured paper. In the car, Hannibal had permitted him to do anything which would be expected of a restaurant patron, which he was relieved to understand included feeding himself. Will scanned the menu, thankful it wasn't in French. Not that it mattered, he reflected, as Hannibal would probably order for him anyway. He took a sip of water, conscious of the cuff weighty on his wrist and the smirk of the waiter as he’d noticed them. 

“Are you not hungry, Will? Or perhaps the menu doesn't interest you?”

Will looked at him, patiently. He kept his mouth firmly closed.

Hannibal smiled. “It would rather dull for me if you sat here in silence, so until I pay the bill I will demand your conversation.”

Will felt a hot flash of irritation at having to adjust to another abrupt change of boundaries. Instead of it being a relief to speak, it seemed to be a further hoop to jump through, another obstacle he had to climb to win back Hannibal’s regard. “We sat in silence all the way here and you didn’t find it dull. How free am I to speak? If I say something you don't like, are you going to punish me for it later?”

“What are you planning on saying, Will?”

“Nothing. I'm not planning anything. But, for instance, I could be rude to the waiter. Or you. I feel like being rude to someone right now.”

“You are angry with me.”

“I just want know where the boundaries are. You keep changing them.”

“You can say anything you like - there will be no additional repercussions to anything you might say. For the next hour or so, I only want your company and conversation.”

Will fell into a stunned silence as he contemplated that sentence. The waiter, who’d been watching their tense exchange from a distance, appeared to ask if they were ready to order. Hannibal politely waved him away with request for two glasses of wine. Will’s mind continued to work, his understanding now gathering to a cool point of clarity, one which was almost unbelievable. Especially after the way Hannibal had treated him - had _manipulated_ him - this morning.

“Is this a date? Hannibal, have you brought me on a _date?_ ”

“If you choose to see it as one, I can't stop you.”

“It is, isn't it?” Will picked up his menu to study again. “Why didn't you just ask me if you wanted to take me to lunch?”

Hannibal calmly met Will’s gaze, his expression neutral yet somehow flattened. Will suddenly felt very tired and wished to return to the ease of the previous night. Or just to go home, to spend the day in the woods with the dogs, and leave this behind.

The waiter returned with the wine and to take their orders. Will just shrugged and told Hannibal to order for him. No doubt the waiter had seen it all before and Will no longer cared what he thought. Hannibal did so without missing a beat, choosing several things which Will wasn’t particularly fond of eating.

When they were alone again, Hannibal leaned back in his chair and said, in his disinterested-psychiatrist voice, “Why don’t you tell me why you are angry with me?”

“Right now I’m just tired, Hannibal. You said this was about obedience but there is nothing for me to obey here. I don’t want to play these games with you, guessing what I’m supposed to do next.”

“You were very happy to play games with me last night.”

“That’s not the same thing. And I didn’t hear you complain about it at the time.”

“It seems you want to play games only when it suits you.”

“We all do things when it suits us, one way or another. You can’t honestly expect to control me like that.”

“My interests were clear to you when we started this.”

“We didn’t discuss anything like what is happening now. And I refuse to believe you’re seriously threatened by what I did last night. Especially after I let you parade me around in front of everyone which, by the way, _you loved_.”

“I told you I would teach you obedience - perhaps you thought I didn’t mean it?”

“This isn’t an obedience lesson, this is punishment.” Will paused. “What was it you said last night about _‘the power I hold over you’_? You actually do think that, don’t you?”

“Your behaviour was presumptuous-”

“Don’t give me that. This is insane, Hannibal, you know that, right?”

Their entrées arrived, giving Will time to reflect bitterly on the experience of having yet another whispered argument in a restaurant. He realised too late that, however unconventional the course of their relationship had been, he’d genuinely thought that he’d found someone who understood and accepted him. His disappointment was so profound as to be almost overwhelming, to find that Hannibal was just someone else who thought he was weak, or unstable, to be controlled. 

Utterly ignoring his food, Will continued, “Okay, if this _is_ a date - at least in part - let's do some normal date things. Let’s talk about our relationship histories, shall we?”

“Will-”

“Or at least, _I_ will, because _unbelievably_ I think I’m the only one out of the two of us who has actually had something close to a normal relationship. The people I met last night practically confirmed that. So, tell me, Hannibal, have you always been alone?”

Hannibal sat like stone, simply looking back at him with that opaque gaze. Will felt a little shiver of danger and plunged on regardless.

“Was that a choice of yours, or simply the ways things worked out? 

Again, Hannibal gave no reaction. 

“Maybe everyone else saw much earlier what I’m only beginning to see now. Beyond the sexual dominance you have nothing to offer, do you? Once that’s taken away there’s nothing there but a boring and predictable need for control.”

Will stood up, anger boiling over. “If you think I’ll settle for that, Hannibal, you don’t understand me at all.”

Throwing his napkin on his plate, Will walked out of the restaurant and didn’t look back once.

 

Ten minutes after Will left, angrily striding in the direction of Hannibal’s house so he could pick up his car, the burning rage drained out of him quickly, leaving him feeling empty and lost. He was still angry - both with himself and with Hannibal - but tired, and saddened too. It was a forty-five minute walk to Hannibal’s and the ridiculous urge to sit down on the sidewalk and not move came upon him. He almost laughed - he’d been so stupid. There had been plenty of warning signs, plenty of things that he should have paid more attention to. Hannibal had been his psychiatrist, for one. But it had been so easy and had _felt good_ and he’d really started to think that- 

He was just slowing down to a halt when a car pulled up beside him. He resolutely did not look at it, even when the door opened. 

“Let me at least drive you back to pick up your car. Please.”

Will looked down at his feet. He was still wearing the cuffs, his cuffs, the ones Hannibal had bought just for him. Everything he was wearing right then, Hannibal had bought for him. That this didn’t make him feel sick made him want to both hit something and cry.

“Okay,” he said, finally. “But don’t talk to me. I’m done, I just want to go home.”

 

The drive back was as silent as the drive to the restaurant. Will kept his head turned away from the driver’s seat and looked out of the window. When they pulled into the garage, Hannibal switched off the engine and sat for a moment. He didn’t look at Will.

“I will wait in the kitchen while you fetch your belongings. Take your time, it will be easier for both of us if you take it all with you now.”

Will felt an odd pang of something like pity. Hannibal seemed much more human, though he still sat as immovable and emotionless as rock.

“I thought you’d try to persuade me to stay.”

“I could,” Hannibal replied. “The problem is that I only want you to stay if it is of your own free will. Despite what you might think.”

Inside the house, Hannibal made straight for the kitchen as he’d promised. Will walked slowly up the stairs to the bedroom. On reaching it, he remembered how he’d felt that first night here - how he felt swallowed up by it’s luxurious, dark richness. And how he’d quickly made himself at home without even trying to. Now he was here, the things he’d said in the restaurant seemed cruel and flippant. There was more to Hannibal, much more. It just wasn’t always easy to find.

Instead of packing up his things he sat on the bed and thought about Hannibal sitting alone in his kitchen, quietly waiting for him to leave.

 

When he entered the kitchen, Hannibal was sitting at the table with his sleeves rolled up, writing out recipe cards. He didn’t look up from his task and appeared relaxed but Will could make out the tightening across his shoulders and the tension in his jaw at the sound of the door opening.

Will stood at the threshold and said, “I don’t pretend to know what today was really about for you. But I don’t believe the things I said in the restaurant are true.”

Hannibal halted, pen poised in his hand but still refused to make eye contact. A fragile, icy calm surrounded him.

“Have you come to say goodbye, Will?”

Will walked over to the table and sensed the warning increase with every step. “No. I was hoping we could talk about it instead.”

Hannibal put his pen down and finally looked over to Will, with something like defeat.

“You seemed very certain about the things you said in the restaurant.”

“I still am about some of them. I know you’ve always been alone.”

“I have been, yes. Until you.”

“Right at the beginning, when you asked me how I felt - I should have answered ‘red’. I knew something was off then.” Will sat down carefully next to him, and waited. 

“I believe I made an error of judgement this morning. You were right, I was seeking control, but in the wrong place.” Hannibal paused for a moment before continuing. “And I also should have stopped it - neither of us found any pleasure in today.”

“Sitting at your feet was okay, though I would have preferred it if I could have touched you.”

“That was deliberate. By removing my affection I hoped to regain control over my feelings for you.”

“I know.” Will sighed, scratched his head. “You are a very strange man. But then, I think I am too.”

He reached for Hannibal's hand and took it. Hannibal looked at their joined hands and then back at Will.

“It is my own fault,” he said, calmly. “I knew how being emotionally withholding would affect you. I deliberately sought to make you uncomfortable and it is right I should suffer the consequences.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry.” Will laughed softly then, and said, “I guess I’m not very good at being obedient, am I?”

“You were very good to begin with. I was actually surprised with how quickly you settled into taking orders.”

“Put it down to a blend of the police academy, my father and you.” Will paused. “I do not want to hear what your thoughts are as a psychiatrist are on that sentence, by the way.”

Hannibal placed an arm around Will's waist, almost tentatively.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Yes, always.”

Will let go of Hannibal’s hand so he could wrap both arms around him, and pressed his face into Hannibal’s neck.

“That was our first fight. I think I’m almost proud of us.”

“I would prefer not to repeat the experience too quickly.”

Will pulled back to look at him. The shadow of hurt still lingered in his face, even though the detached expression had softened into something more tender. Will brought his hands up to his face, as if he could stroke it away and undo what he’d said, “I really am sorry.”

“I know. So am I.”

Will leaned in to kiss him once, very gently, and sighed. “We’re going to have to talk more about this, aren’t we?” 

“Most likely. You are still wearing your cuffs, let me take them off.”

“No, leave them. I want to wear them.”

“There’s no need to appease me, Will. You feel guilty for losing your temper but I treated you badly today, knowingly so.”

“I’m keeping them on,” Will repeated. “They’re mine, or rather both them and me are still yours.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything further, just held Will tightly until Will pulled away and tugged him to his feet.

“Usually, this is where the make-up sex happens. So I’m taking you to bed.”

 

Upstairs, Will kissed Hannibal fiercely while unbuttoning his shirt, but Hannibal seemed at a loss for what to do. He stood and let Will roughly tug off his shirt and returned his kisses with just as much ardour, but made no attempt to steer Will’s movements in any particular direction. Neither did he really touch Will or move to undress him.

Will stood back, breathing hard, and regarded him as he pulled off his own shirt.

“I don’t usually have to give you permission to touch me. You don’t have to hold back, you know I like it.”

Will stepped towards Hannibal again, drawing him close and kissed him deeply before yanking his fly undone.

Hannibal watched him with a strange expression, and finally said, “I find I do not trust my instincts today. And things are still not as they should be between us.”

Will pulled him towards the bed. “Things between us are how they are, Hannibal. This is not the time for analysing.” Climbing onto it, he held out his hand for Hannibal to join him. “Right now, all I want is your skin on mine, understood?”

Hannibal smiled, but instead of crawling up over him as Will had expected, Hannibal lay down next to him on the bed. Will turned to face him.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“No. I accept responsibility for what happened today.”

“I could have behaved better though. I said things I regret.”

“Yes, that’s true. But I acted in full knowledge of your temperament and your past history, and I knew just what to do to upset you. I wanted you to feel unsteady and confused.”

“Why?”

Hannibal shrugged. “Many reasons. To hurt you, punish you. And it made it easier to manipulate you.”

“But why? To what end?”

“I told you - a misplaced need to control my feelings for you. Which I realise is foolish and wrong.”

Will drew his fingertips through the soft hair of Hannibal’s chest. “I can’t help being aware that I should now be gathering up my things and walking out of here. You know how all of that sounds, don’t you?”

Hannibal looked at the ceiling. “Yes, I do. And perhaps maybe you should.”

Will leaned in close to his ear, and whispered, “And that sounds like self-pity.”

Hannibal glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and turned to him again. “I am not a good person, Will. At best I am merely neutral.”

“Are you really trying to warn me off?”

Hannibal reached for him then, slipping his fingers through Will’s. “I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to stay under a false impression either.”

Will knew his decision was already made, even as he made himself pause to consider Hannibal’s words. He’d known for some time that Hannibal was not an ordinary person, that he held himself at a distance from others because he truly thought he was superior. That he amused himself with manipulation and game-playing. He raised Hannibal’s hand to his lips and kissed it, then rolled on top of Hannibal, caging him in with his forearms.

“Is this too presumptuous for you?”

Hannibal smiled, reluctantly. “You aren’t going to let me forget that, are you?”

“It’s the price you’ll have to pay for keeping me around,” said Will, as he gently ground his hips into Hannibal’s. “Although before we go any further, I think I should ask you a question too.”

Hannibal’s hands came up to hold Will’s hips, and he nodded for Will to speak.

“These feelings you have about me that you tried to control. Would it be any easier if I was more comfortable- if I could hear you speak the words?” Will paused. “Or say them?”

“It would make no difference.”

“Okay. Good.” Will laughed a little. “What a pair we make. It shouldn’t be funny, but it sort of is.”

Hannibal smiled up at him, running his hands along the muscles of Will’s back. He seemed much more relaxed now but still did not move to take charge. Will bent to him, and his mouth opened gently to Will’s. They kissed deeply, tongues sliding together, until they were once again panting into each other’s mouths. Will sat back to slide his hands up Hannibal’s torso, over the slight softness of his stomach to the hard planes of his chest. He liked how his wrist cuffs appeared as he rubbed his fingers through the hair on Hannibal’s chest, and rocked his hips more forcefully into Hannibal’s. Hannibal pressed up back against him, pulling Will’s hips down to meet his own. They both moaned, shivering at the sensation, and Will ducked his head to lick at one of Hannibal’s nipples. Hannibal bucked his hips, and Will grinned up at him, before sucking a nipple into his mouth and grazing his teeth over it. Still Hannibal lay prone underneath him, watching, just letting Will do what he wanted.

Will kneaded the dense muscle of Hannibal’s chest, as he sucked hard on the other nipple, worrying at it with his teeth. Hannibal gasped above him, and he slid his hands up over Hannibal’s shoulders, and then down his arms to grip his biceps. The flex of muscle and sinew in his hands, the feel of the latent strength in Hannibal’s arms, drove Will on to bite harder. He’d never even considered that Hannibal would let him do this, and the thought struck him what a _privilege_ it was. He pressed his face to Hannibal’s chest, hair tickling his nose as he breathed him in, and aching with sudden, desperate longing. Underneath him, Hannibal moaned and simply held Will’s hips tight against his own so he could rub up against him.

The sight of Hannibal almost submissive under him gripped Will with fervent lust. He freed Hannibal’s cock from his unbuttoned pants, and then hastily undid his own. Will palmed himself roughly a few times as he looked down at Hannibal’s cock, hard and heavy on his stomach, the sight alone enough to make him groan with want. Then, neglecting Hannibal’s cock entirely, Will leaned over to rub his hard length against Hannibal’s stomach, leaving a damp and sticky trail. With his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders for leverage, the drag of Hannibal’s belly along his cock was perfect. They both watched Will thrusting against him breathlessly, until Hannibal groaned and reached for the bedside cabinet for the lube. Will moved to pin his wrist to the bed.

“No,” he panted. “Just like this.”

As Hannibal watched, Will took hold of his cock and rolled it gently in his palm, working it as clear fluid leaked from the tip. Hannibal let out a shaky breath but remained unmoving beneath him. Will wrapped his hand around them both, working their cocks together, and there was just enough slickness to ease the friction. Hannibal’s hips had stilled but Will continued, the rough and dirty feel driving him on, until they were both leaking freely and slid easily against each other. Will dragged his gaze away from the sight to watch Hannibal’s face as he lay underneath him. He looked undone, panting and hair dishevelled, and thrusting desperately now into Will’s hand.

Will grinned suddenly, fiercely, and kissed him hard, open-mouthed and messy as his hips worked harder and his fist tightened around them both. Will was gasping into Hannibal’s mouth as Hannibal groaned loudly, and came suddenly over Will’s hand. Will felt it stripe hot against his fingers and cock, and used it to slick Hannibal’s stomach so he could rub against him again. He worked his hips deliberately, wanting to come over Hannibal’s skin and mark him with it. Judging by Hannibal’s answering moan of his name, he might have said so out loud. When he finally came he sat back to watch as he spurted thickly over Hannibal’s stomach and chest, panting noisily.

Will let himself fall forward onto Hannibal, who clutched at him and pulled him close. They were sticky and sweaty but it didn’t matter, in fact it was just how it should be, Will thought. He pushed his face into Hannibal’s cheek and closed his eyes, with Hannibal’s arms tight around him. He remained there until cooling sweat and the itch of their drying fluids became too much to ignore. Kissing Hannibal once on the corner of his mouth, Will rose to clean himself, kicking off his pants as he went.

In the bathroom, he paused to consider his reflection. Despite being only three in the afternoon, it seemed that they had both travelled much further than that in time. There was no change he could see in his mirror-self, except being more flushed and dishevelled than was usual. He scrubbed at himself with a wet cloth and thought about Hannibal’s admission and why it didn’t bother him like it should. He supposed it was enough to simply know it didn’t.

He picked up the cloth, and went back to Hannibal.


	8. Chapter 8

Will awoke to find Hannibal sleeping heavily across him. Hannibal’s soft hair brushed against his cheek, catching in his beard, as he strained up to check the clock. They’d been asleep for maybe half an hour, but already their disastrous lunch seemed like it belonged to the distant past. Looking down at Hannibal, curled protectively and possessively into him, Will knew he wasn't going home for that walk alone in the woods.

Hannibal stirred to blink blearily once, then rolled over and off him. Will tucked his face into the pillow behind Hannibal's ear, hiding his smile.

“Not used to sleeping in the afternoon?” Will asked.

Hannibal rubbed his eyes. “No. I find I need little sleep. I shall probably struggle to get any tonight.”

“I'm sure you'll live. You obviously needed that, you were dead to the world.”

“Today was very tiring.”

“Yeah. I'd noticed.”

Hannibal silently gazed at the ceiling from the pillows. Will sighed and brushed Hannibal's hair back from his forehead.

“Let's have a quiet, peaceful day. We can talk more about it later.”

Hannibal nodded. “You still plan to stay, then. For the weekend.”

“Yes.”

“And these?” Hannibal said, tugging on a cuff with a finger. “There really is no need.”

Will had forgotten them. As they were uncoupled and did not restrict his movements, he’d become used to weight of thick leather around each wrist. “I'd like to keep them on until I leave. Even if we just have a normal day.”

In the end, that was exactly what they had. The day was spent quietly and companionably, just reading, cooking and eating together. Though it was peaceful, Will was aware they were both turning the argument over in their thoughts. Hannibal was also more attentive and affectionate than usual, as if he was on his best behaviour. In the evening, he cooked a simple and soothing dinner of sole meunière and they retired early. As Hannibal turned out the reading lamp by the bed, Will reflected that he could have this every night if he wished.

 

The next morning, Will woke alone with a certainty in his gut, something whole and feeling more real than anything which had happened in the past twenty four hours. He stretched out in Hannibal's bed, taking up glorious space, and let it settle into his bones. Hannibal’s presence suffused the room as always, rich and heady. The now-familiar need to hand both himself and his pleasure over to Hannibal uncoiled like silken rope, winding through his veins and pooling liquid warmth in his groin. He lay for a while, simply enjoying the anticipation shivering lightly over his skin, before rising to seek out Hannibal.

Will found him in the dining room, with coffee and a newspaper. The immaculate surface of the table suggested he'd eaten some time ago and had already cleared away.

“Did I sleep late or did you get up extra early?”

“I was up early. Sit, and I'll bring you breakfast.”

He was swift in providing an uncomplicated and hearty meal. Will looked at his plate of eggs, bacon and thick griddled potato cakes. A deliberate choice, almost plain, with any flourishes held firmly in check. Apparently Hannibal was still making silent amends for yesterday. As he ate, Will considered how best to bring up the subject he knew he had to. It was dangerously close to things they'd avoided the night before and possibly Hannibal needed longer to piece his armour back together.

“Are you going to tell me what is on your mind, or would you like me to guess?” Hannibal sat opposite him, a politely-enquiring eyebrow raised.

Will put down his fork, deciding to be blunt about it. “I'd like to re-do yesterday. Or parts of it. How it should have gone.” He gestured with the wrist cuffs. “Make me yours again.”

Hannibal watched him carefully, before replying in the same tone, “And how would you have me do that?”

“As you always do. You don’t really want me trying to appease you and begging for your approval, like yesterday. That's not why you like me.” Will took another mouthful of eggs, and gathered his thoughts. “I said I was still yours, but you need to show me that, make me feel it. Don’t hold back because you made a mistake.”

He waited with some apprehension, unsure how Hannibal would take to having yesterday’s mis-steps discussed again. When Hannibal spoke, his only comment was, “This is what you relish. Knowing you are wanted.”

It wasn't as difficult to admit to as Will might have thought. “It's never been like this. I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted me so much.”

Hannibal said nothing.

“And I’m glad that it's you who does, by the way. I like both _you_ and _how_ you want me.”

“You enjoy it when I dominate you. Is that what you would like today?”

Will felt his cheeks flush a little, but the words came out easily and clearly. “Yes, I want that.”

“Yesterday you missed my touch, whether soft and soothing or intense and overwhelming. That is how you like to be shown how much you’re wanted.”

“And that is how you like to show me too. With your hands, with your body. With your restraints and canes. And likely with other things that we haven’t got to yet.”

Hannibal smiled slyly. “Are you getting hard, Will?”

Will met his gaze easily. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

Will paused for the briefest of moments before standing, stripping off his t-shirt first then pulling down his pyjama pants and kicking them off, until he was naked before Hannibal. His cock hung heavy between his legs, hot where it met cool air, thickening and rising as Hannibal watched him steadily from the other side of the table.

“Have you finished eating?”

“Yes.”

“Then come and sit here,” Hannibal said, pointing to the floor beside his chair.

Will lowered himself down and Hannibal gently curled his fingers through Will’s hair, then twisted and pulled with steady, firm pressure. Will relaxed and allowed Hannibal to tilt his head, to bare his throat to him. Hannibal held him there, watching, then released him. He cupped Will's cheek tenderly as he spoke.

“I'm going to finish the newspaper and you will sit quietly like this, here with me.”

Relief and desire flowed through Will, as he rested his head against Hannibal’s hip. He breathed in Hannibal's familiar scent and instinctively wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s legs. Then he froze, uncertain if this was welcome, but affectionate fingers tangled through his hair and Will closed his eyes. Face pressed into Hannibal's sweater, he felt his body release hidden pockets of tension as peace descended.

It was so different to the previous day. Will listened to Hannibal turn the pages of his newspaper and the chink of his china coffee cup. To focus only on the press of Hannibal’s body against him was unbearably intimate - the shift of muscles under his hands and against his face, the steady heartbeat, the simple warmth of Hannibal under his clothes. Though Will’s cock still pressed half-hard into his thigh, Will realised how far beyond simple sexual desire they had moved **.** He’d intended to prove something to Hannibal with this but it seemed that both of them were still learning what they were to each other, and how to express it. 

Eyes shut against Hannibal’s side, Will let himself sink into a deep reverie. His mind was clear and lucid and he did not seek to control his thoughts, he only followed where they went. It brought him a beautiful calm. Slowly, the urge to speak washed over him, like an incoming tide.

“Can I talk?” he whispered, lips grazing the soft wool of Hannibal’s sweater.

“If you wish, of course,” came the answer, while a hand trailed slowly through the strands of his hair.

“I want to talk about yesterday. From the day I met you I knew you weren’t like other people. I know you like to manipulate and play games. I know you have a need for control. But you are honest with me about it - mostly, anyway - and, when all's said and done, I find I don’t really care if you’re a good person or not. It doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

There was a silence and in it Will could see Hannibal testing out the many different responses he could give and discarding them, until finally he closed his eyes and sank his chin onto his chest. When he did speak it was soft and quiet.

“I am so very unused to this. Sometimes I find it exhilarating, and sometimes I find it terrifying. Sometimes I even think that if you told me to sit at your feet, my only option would be to obey.”

Will thought about that feeling of power he’d experienced while riding Hannibal's cock in his car - the triumph of having Hannibal exactly how he wanted. And yesterday how Hannibal had lay submissive underneath him as Will ground them together and then marked him with his release. “When I’m with you I can feel powerful, occasionally when I least expect to.”

“You are either extremely dangerous for me or the best thing that could ever have happened. I’m still not sure which.”

Will felt his smile tug across his face until it was wide and laughing. “Have you considered I could be both?”

Laughing too, Hannibal stroked his cheek. “I expect that to be very close to the truth, _tesoro_.”

Will leaned into his touch, and closed his eyes. “If we both feel that about each other, then it balances. Yesterday…, well, we fell out of balance.”

“But that is no excuse for my treatment of you. And if I damage your trust in me, I will undermine everything which exists between us.”

Turning his face so he could kiss Hannibal’s palm, Will met his gaze. “So next time, talk to me first. Not after.”

Hannibal nodded, and went back to stroking his hair. Will felt his fingers slide down to play with the curls at the back of his neck. He bent to rest his forehead on Hannibal’s thigh, exposing more of his neck to Hannibal.

“You like that. Being petted,” Hannibal observed.

Will sighed into his leg and made an assenting noise. The touch was relaxing but it also brought his attention back to his cock, a soft arousal rolling in his belly.

“Do you feel powerful right now?”

Will tilted his head over to watch Hannibal’s face. With a slight smile, he said, “No, we're equal like this.”

Hannibal looked benevolently down at him, with a hint of amusement. “And later? How do you want to feel then?”

Will focused on the slow insistence of his dick. “The opposite. I want you to use me.”

He heard the quiet but sharp intake of breath from Hannibal above him. Hannibal tightened his grip in Will’s hair again, and at Will’s answering gasp, said, “Go upstairs and wait for me. I won’t be long.”

 

When Hannibal entered, Will was standing in the middle of the bedroom. He waited in the doorway as he asked, “What do you need, Will?”

In answer, Will knelt down and placed his hands behind his back. The cuffs were still separated and a part of him wished his hands really were tied up, but that he chose to keep them there was more powerful. Neither he nor Hannibal could be in any doubt of what he wanted.

Hannibal slowly approached to stand before him. Will kept his eyes fixed on the spot of carpet just visible between Hannibal’s legs as he heard a zipper being undone. Almost above his line of sight, Hannibal took out his cock to begin stroking it. It seemed so crude and unexpected, an almost nakedly primitive display of lust. Will’s breath caught in his throat, contemplating just how Hannibal might want to use him.

Hannibal grasped his hair and pulled his head back and up, to bare his throat again and forcing Will to raise his eyes to him. Neither of them spoke. Will’s attention was caught on how Hannibal's hand worked along his shaft, how the foreskin moved with it and exposed the head, over and over. He saw it grow shiny and wet, watched it thicken and swell. The scent of him filled the air between them, until Will felt he was breathing him in, could taste him on his tongue. His own dick twitched against his belly as he longed to feel his lips slide over the silky skin. He knew that he would not do so until Hannibal demanded it from him. It only made his current predicament more delicious, making him harder and needing even more to feel that thick cock push between his lips - a perfect feedback loop of wanting and withholding.

Hannibal was watching from intently from above - Will could feel his narrowed, predatory gaze boring into him. Will didn't meet his eyes, continuing to follow Hannibal's hand gliding leisurely over his dick, inches from his parted lips. He wet them, running his tongue slowly out and over their soft swell, and felt Hannibal's grip tighten in his hair. He heard himself make a quiet sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Hannibal’s cock was hard and full now, the head red and fat and leaking freely, and as he jerked himself harder the room filled with the slapping, wet sounds of skin-on-skin. Will's cock ached in response but his hands remained behind his back and he waited obediently.

He was rewarded when Hannibal slowed his movements and pulled his hand away from his cock, leaving it jutting into the small space between them. Hannibal swiped his thumb through the wet tip and, tilting up Will's chin with his fingers, dragged it over his mouth and painted his lips with the taste of him. Will sighed, and remained still and pliable - he did not open his mouth to suck on Hannibal’s thumb, did not even run his tongue over the traces Hannibal left there. When Hannibal pushed his thumb between his lips, Will opened his mouth and just let it lie cushioned on his tongue, all the time gazing intensely up at Hannibal.

“How lovely you look.” Hannibal withdrew his thumb and grasped his cock again, guiding it towards Will. “One day I shall do this to you in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself.” 

At the first drag of the tip of Hannibal’s cock over his mouth, Will shut his eyes, afraid he could not remain passive for much longer. He felt it glide over his lips, the touch intimate and animal, could smell Hannibal’s arousal and feel it in the slick wetness on his own skin. 

Hannibal cupped the back of his head gently, and said, “Open your mouth, now. You’ve been very good, you can have what you want so very badly.”

Will opened his mouth and Hannibal pulled him gently forward onto his cock, just so Will could wrap his lips around the shaft and suckle on the head, running his tongue up along the slit. Hannibal groaned and Will sucked harder, wanting to feel the flared shape of him in his mouth after being denied for so long. Hannibal allowed him this for a short time then pulled out with an obscene wet sound.

“You wanted me to use you and I shall. Relax now, and let me.”

Will shivered a little, remembering his own words and thinking _yes_ , as Hannibal pushed inside his mouth again. This time Will allowed Hannibal to slide smoothly between his lips and concentrated on making a hot, wet space for him to slowly fuck into. Will moaned, the thick swell of cock heavy on his tongue, and his own dick ached for touch. Hannibal gripped Will’s hair as he worked his hips, repeatedly filling Will’s mouth, cock now slick and wet from the slide and drag of Will’s parted lips. His thrusts were measured but increasingly deep, as Hannibal pushed at Will’s limits. It was both invasive and intimate, and though Hannibal stopped just short, Will found himself wishing he could take all of him. 

Will felt himself drift down into the place where everything was reduced to simple need, and gave himself up to it. He had no interest in what Hannibal decided to do or not do next, all he wanted was this. Hannibal’s thrusts were quicker and shallower, and Will braced himself in anticipation of Hannibal spilling into his mouth. He shut his eyes and moaned - it would be messy like this, with his control given away, he would have to swallow fast and hard. His face heated at the thought of what he would look like. Perhaps that was exactly what Hannibal intended.

He was surprised when Hannibal pulled out of his mouth entirely and, still cupping the back of his neck, began to roughly stroke himself inches from his face. Understanding Hannibal’s intention, Will tilted his head upwards and shut his eyes, causing a groan from Hannibal and then shortly after he felt the first hot splash of wetness strike across his parted lips. He licked them clean as more followed, striping over his cheeks and chin. He heard Hannibal’s harsh pants fade and slow, and opened his eyes. 

There was tenderness in Hannibal’s expression as he dragged his fingers through the mess and held them out to Will. He lapped at Hannibal’s fingers, slowly licking them clean and heard a soft sigh above him. Will was achingly hard, his cock a solid weight against his stomach and his balls heavy and tight, but it didn’t seem to matter any more. Hannibal pulled a cloth from his pocket and used it to gently clean Will’s face. He knelt still, posture unchanged, entirely submissive under Hannibal’s ministrations.

“Here,” Hannibal said, helping him up and pulling him toward the bed.

At first they just sat, wrapped up in each other on its edge. Will tucked his head into Hannibal’s neck, his own arousal still desperately strong but now something unconnected from him. Hannibal held him tightly and Will heard him whisper, “ _Ti adoro, ti adoro,”_ against him, with other phrases he couldn’t catch the form of. Will simply let the sound of Hannibal’s voice soak into him.

When Hannibal eventually loosened his hold, he told Will to lie down. Then he undressed, to lay skin-to-skin with Will under the covers. Will rested there, his arousal ebbing but not fading entirely, a light buzz under his skin. It felt right to wait, untouched, floating suspended from normal life in Hannibal's arms. Everything was very clear now, he felt comfortable in this space he'd made for himself, here with Hannibal.

When he came back more fully to himself, Hannibal was petting his hair, combing his fingers through it over and over. 

Will raised his head. "What did you say to me just then?"

The movement of Hannibal’s fingers paused. "I thought you found it too difficult to hear?"

"I want to know. I know your meaning, and I can understand the odd word, but the way you say it... I like the way you sound."

Hannibal hesitated, causing Will to smile. "I thought it was only because of me that you use Italian."

Hannibal sighed and conceded, "Perhaps it is easier for me too."

He pressed closer to Will, holding him even more tightly so Will couldn't retreat as he spoke.

"I say many things. I call you my darling, my treasure. I tell you how beautiful you are, how complete my desire is and how abandoned you make me. I tell you that you are mine and belong to me, that I shall never leave you, that you have made me yours. I praise you, for being so very good, for indulging me, and for indulging yourself also. I tell you that you deserve it, and more, and I tell you I love you."

Will went very quiet. He had known what Hannibal had meant all along but to hear it stated so fully was too much. Shockingly, he found his eyes filled with tears as Hannibal continued to look steadily at him, waiting.

He turned over abruptly, avoiding Hannibal's searching gaze. Hannibal folded his arms around him again, and Will pressed back against him. They lay there for a few moments without speaking, bodies perfectly aligned.

“I'm sorry, I- it's just a lot to take in.”

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully in his ear. “You like being wanted so much yet you can't hear the words because you find them difficult to believe.”

“Maybe. When you- for instance, today, that was real. When you leave marks on me, bite me, bruise me. That's real. Words are… both too much and not enough. Not tangible enough.”

“You want to believe though. You want to believe I mean it.”

“I know you mean it. But what you offer is so much more than anyone ever has before. How can it be real?”

Will felt Hannibal's slow breaths on the nape of his neck, his solidity behind him. Nothing could be more certain, he thought. But he still couldn't make his mind connect this feeling of safety with the words Hannibal had used.

"If you wish to explore this further, I have a suggestion. There are things you could wear, even in public, which could serve to remind you. Something more concrete than a bruise or a bite mark."

Will reflected how it might feel to have such a reminder, one he could feel wherever he was. An image came to him of a collar made of plain but good quality leather. Maybe it could be concealed under his shirt, especially if he wore a tie. It would be slim but solid, with one heavy buckle to fasten it. He could almost feel it's weight resting on the back of his neck, like Hannibal had placed his hand there.

Will opened his mouth to speak and then realised Hannibal was touching his hand with a very soft and specific gesture. Looking down, realisation dawned. Hannibal’s fingers were trailing gently over the third finger on his left hand.

Taking a deep breath, Will said as calmly as he could, “Hannibal. Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"I'm not expecting an answer," Hannibal said. "But now you are aware of my intentions."

He turned back to Hannibal, who just looked back mildly, idly stroking Will’s side.

"Your intention is to marry me?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Christ, Hannibal." Will let out a strangled laugh, "Do you even have any doubt, that I will say yes eventually?"

"You misunderstand me. I do think it likely that you will say yes, at the right time. However you are mercurial and hard to predict. I want you to know what I would like for us. And that you need not fear me taking away the things I give you, by leaving you."

Will stared down at him - Hannibal was undoubtedly sincere, even if he did speak as if it were a simple matter. Will exhaled shakily and lowered himself to lie on Hannibal's chest, head tucked under his chin.

"Before I realised what you meant I was thinking about you getting me a collar, and wearing it under my clothes."

"Is that something you would like? Perhaps a leash too. You'd certainly look delightful sitting at my feet like that. I would hold it fast and there'd be no getting away from me."

Will bit his lip and tried very hard not to let out a little sigh of desire at the thought. He remembered how safe and calm he'd felt at Hannibal's feet. Why should one version of Hannibal’s love be so different from the other?

Hannibal soothed a touch over his back and said, "You find one scenario desirable and the other frightens you because you believe it leaves you vulnerable. You are also aware you are reacting in the opposite manner to what is expected. And as I have now implied that those scenarios need not be so different, you are unsure what to feel."

"I hate when you tell me what I'm thinking. I thought I said no psychoanalysing in the bedroom," Will mumbled into his chest.

Hannibal gave a warm-sounding laugh. “As I have neither a ring or a collar to hand, you don't need to worry about it now. But if you want to extend the psychiatry theme, you've made good progress today.”

Will rolled away and scrubbed at his face. “Have I? Is that why I feel like this? I woke up feeling so sure about everything.”

“Change is unbalancing, at first. We need time to adapt.”

Will’s laugh sprang out of him so suddenly even he was surprised by it. “That's what you've done, yes, you've _changed_ me.”

“At least as much as you've changed me.”

Reaching for Hannibal again, Will asked, "Re-balance me, then. I need... something." He licked his lips, swallowed. "What you said earlier, about me not getting away."

Hannibal showed his teeth in a smile just the wrong side of predatory. "That's not something you need be concerned about." Hannibal's grip on his arm grew tighter before releasing him. "On your back, please."

Will obliged, suddenly desperate for Hannibal's touch, his anxiety receding already. Closing his eyes and breathing slowly, he remembered the taste of Hannibal's release on his tongue. Hannibal must be able to smell himself all over him, he realised, he was invisibly marked. His cock twitched against his stomach.

Instead of kneeling over him, Hannibal got out of the bed entirely and stood. He was naked still, and Will watched as he pulled on a pair of pyjama pants. Then he slowly peeled back the bedclothes, until they were bunched up on the floor at the bottom of the bed, leaving Will exposed to the room. He lay on the sheet with his hands at his sides, waiting. The air cooled him, his skin springing up in goosebumps, and his cock hardening again.

Hannibal stood at the side of the bed, close to Will. With his hands behind his back, studying Will, it was almost as if they were back in his office.

“Would you like to touch yourself?" he asked conversationally.

Will frowned. "Are you asking me to or-?"

"I'm asking if you want to."

"I'd rather you did."

"Why is that? Because you prefer the way I touch you?"

Will tried not to sound irritable. "I like you touching me, of course I like you touching me."

"It would be strange if you didn't," Hannibal agreed. "But besides the fact that it's me doing the touching, are there other reasons you like it?"

Will shut his eyes and thought about what he'd asked for this morning. "I like when you take control. Even when you make me ask, it's like you know what I want but you're just making sure I know too."

"An interesting answer, and very observant of you. Not that I expect anything less, of course. _Now_ I would like you to touch yourself."

Will looked down at himself, laid out under Hannibal's gaze, and imagined stroking himself with Hannibal's inscrutability so close by, taking in every detail. His cock twitched at the idea, a drop of clear fluid trickling onto his stomach. He laid his palm over it, gently at first, just pressing down a little. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary rock, just rubbing his cock up against his hand. He’d jerked off in front of Hannibal before, shamelessly so, but he felt strangely inhibited this time, pinned to the bed by Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal give a small, pleased sigh. "Very good. Please continue."

Will pushed up more deliberately against his hand. The sensation was familiar yet strange, active and passive at the same time. He pressed his hand down harder, still only giving himself his palm. It looked obscene, Will thought - he could just jerk himself off but instead he chose to do this. To lie here, giving himself enough but not too much, _like Hannibal would_ , he realised suddenly. The thought made him work his hips harder and he gasped, the slide of his cock trapped between his hand and his stomach feeling dirty and good. His desperate need rushed back suddenly, overwhelming in it’s intensity. 

"Christ, Hannibal, I'm not going to last long."

He was so embarrassingly close, he almost didn't register Hannibal moving to lean over him. Hannibal’s eyes were bright as he braced one hand on the bed and leaned his weight on it. The fingers of his other hand he placed around Will's throat. The touch was gentle, almost tender, yet his meaning was very clear. Will's eyes widened and he bucked his hips hard, his palm now slick and slippery with pre-come. Hannibal flexed his fingers around his neck, a ghost of a squeeze.

"You're doing so well, I wish you could see yourself."

Will moaned, shockingly loud to his own ears, feeling his throat work up against Hannibal’s palm. Hannibal tightened his fingers so that his hold on Will's neck was firm but the pressure across his throat remained light. 

Hannibal bent to speak in Will's ear. "Do you feel like getting away from me? Do you think you could if you tried?"

Will grabbed his cock fully then, fisting his hand around it, hard and fast. He moaned again, even louder than before. "God. Hannibal, no, I don't, I couldn't, I- I-" and shot messily over his stomach.

Hannibal regarded him for a long moment, his hand still in place around Will's neck as Will panted hard. Then he dropped a soft kiss on Will’s forehead before releasing him. Hannibal climbed onto the bed, and Will reached for him, pushing his face into Hannibal's neck. He was warm and solid and still smelled of sex.

When Will's breathing evened out, Hannibal asked, "How do you feel now? Are you more certain of your choices?"

"I don't even know why I even asked you to stop psychoanalysing me in bed, I know it's not likely to ever happen." Will lifted his head to grin at Hannibal. "I know I want you.”

"Good." Hannibal kissed him properly, sliding his mouth languidly over Will's, and pausing briefly to whisper, "My lovely Will", with a smile before smothering any potential complaint with another kiss.

Will laughed into his mouth, until Hannibal pulled away. “And I still don’t know about a ring, but a collar… That could be worth exploring."

In reply, Hannibal only smiled and kissed him once again.


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Will saw Hannibal’s dining room that night he knew dinner was going to be a different affair. At the beginning of their relationship Hannibal had courted him with extravagant food, but since then their dinners had become increasingly informal. Still carefully curated, they now held second place to more obviously carnal matters. What Hannibal did offer was in fact an elaborate performance of aftercare and demonstrativeness - Will’s preferences catered through the filter of Hannibal’s tastes.

This evening, however, the table was grandly set. Will eyed the multitude of sparkling glass, the slender tapers, the dark lush flowers by the door. His gaze settled on the centrepiece of ostrich eggs and black feathers.

“Why Dr Lecter, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were casually hinting that you’d like to form some kind of deviant and debauched relationship with me.”

Decanting a bottle of wine by the sideboard, a smile warmed Hannibal’s eyes. “Tonight is intended to be special, you are correct.” Another, different, bottle was brought over to the table. As he poured Will a glass, Hannibal continued, “I hope it pleases you.”

“It’s difficult not to be charmed by all this. Though I feel like I should have dressed up.”

Hannibal bent to linger a kiss over Will’s lips, just the ghost of pressure and wet heat. “Perhaps I would prefer you in a state of undress this evening.”

“Oh, it’s that kind of dinner, is it?”

“Not until after dessert,” replied Hannibal. “Let me ply you with wine and good food first.”

“So I can be sated and suggestible?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” smiled Hannibal. “You know I enjoy giving you fine things, but there is a certain ceremony which should always accompany special occasions.”

“Are you going to tell me what tonight is? Did I miss a milestone of some kind, or…?”

“Patience, Will. Just sit back and enjoy the food, all will become clear in time.”

The food was even more impressive than Will had come to expect. Instead of the usual three courses, Hannibal served several smaller ones, each intense and focused yet confidently balanced. Always a taste of something which would have overpowered if served in greater quantities - building into a rich and complex whole as the plates came and went.

When Hannibal brought coffee in on a silver tray, he placed a large, square box on the table between them. It was the plain but expensive kind Will recognised from the box his cuffs had come in. The box was unwrapped, except for a simple black ribbon. Will wet his lips, finding them suddenly dry. He knew what was inside.

“This is why tonight is special.” It wasn’t a question, but Hannibal nodded in confirmation.

“It will be, if you accept. Last week you seemed very receptive to the idea. But if you find you are not ready for this, I will understand. We did not talk about it at length, after all.”

Will looked back at the box, which sat dark against the heavy, white tablecloth. Longing gripped him so tightly it was almost anxiety, rising up his chest into his throat. He reached for it and pulled off the ribbon. Inside was a brown leather collar, a perfect match for his cuffs, with a buckle at the back and a simple brass ring at the front. That it was decidedly similar to a collar his dogs might wear did not escape him. There was a leash also, a metal chain which ended in a brown leather loop. It was so easy to imagine the leather wrapped around Hannibal’s hand, the chain held taut in his grip. Will sat quite still, taking in the offer Hannibal had placed in front of him. 

He wanted it, he knew, almost desperately. Yet the collar and leash remained nestled in tissue paper in the box in front of him, untouched.

Hannibal spoke again. “There would be no obligation or promise attached by you wearing it. We can always talk about that further down this path, if you wish.”

“You seemed intent on heading down that path last week.”

“I am. But this is only the first step. A trial period, for both of us.”

Will pulled the box closer, and let his finger graze over the brass ring. “Yes.” Then, louder and firmer, he said, “Will you put it on me? Now?”

He watched as Hannibal’s expression flickered, a tremor of relief followed by a hint of desperation which mirrored his own. Hannibal rose to stand behind Will, still seated in his place at the table. Will shut his eyes and rubbed his head back against the hand Hannibal placed in his hair. The first touch of leather around his throat was a cold thrill which shivered it’s way over his skin, down to his toes. It tightened softly, as Hannibal buckled it into place, tenderly enclosing his neck. Will sat for a moment as Hannibal’s fingers traced the leather against his skin; carefully checking the fit; exploring the symbol of his ownership.

It was unbearably intimate, far more so than Will had thought. His hands shook a little as he turned to Hannibal, wanting to reach for him. Hannibal held the leash loose in his hands and, as Will gave a soft nod, clipped it to the collar. Hannibal’s narrowed gaze settled on him as he wound the chain around his hand, shortening it, until Will could feel the steady pull of it around his throat. 

“Does this feel real?” Hannibal asked. “More tangible than words? Can you trust my love for you like this?”

“Yes,” whispered Will. He leaned his forehead into Hannibal’s chest, and exhaled slowly. “What happens now?”

“We will take this slowly. I intend to enjoy exploring this with you very, very much.”

 

They retired to the living room, Hannibal still with the leash in his hand. Will watched it swing back and forth between them; conscious of his own heart beating, steadily and with strength; aware of his own flesh and sinew and skin. And of the chain, linking him with Hannibal - their connection made physical.

Without being instructed, Will sat at Hannibal's feet. Hannibal didn't give him direction and he didn't ask for any. Instead he took what he wanted, pressing his cheek to Hannibal's thigh and sighing in pleasure when Hannibal drew his fingers through his hair.

“How do you feel?” Hannibal asked.

“Good, so very good. It’s different to what I expected.”

“Oh?”

“More intense.” The chain of his leash lay slack in Hannibal's lap. Will wound it through his fingers, feeling the rhythmic cold of the metal links run over his skin. “I feel… anchored. What is it like for you?”

“You know I've never done this before. Not like this.”

“Tell me how you have done it, then.”

A smile curved across Hannibal’s lips. “Are you getting jealous again?”

“No, just curious. Interrogating you. Remember?”

“Always curious, always demanding. Of course. The pull of the leash travels both ways.” 

Hannibal didn't give a further answer, and Will stared challengingly up at him until he sighed and patted the sofa cushion next to him.

“Come up here, like this,” Hannibal said, as he lay Will across him, with his head pillowed in his lap. With the leather loop of the leash slipped over a wrist, he was free to play with Will’s hair and stroke firm fingers overs Will's chest.

“I have had many clients who liked to be collared during a session. Some of them even asked me to force them to wear one. Many clients I viewed as beneath me - I treated them as contemptible, undeserving.”

“And they worshipped you for it.”

“Yes. A mutually beneficial arrangement. They wanted to be degraded, I enjoyed the power they willingly handed me.”

Will was silent, head still cradled against Hannibal's thigh. Hannibal watched him impassively, before speaking again.

“I have shocked you.”

“Actually, no. I suspected something of the sort.”

“There are many ways to wear a collar, and each must be negotiated.” Hannibal's hand travelled up Will's chest to his throat, long fingers sliding over the leather there. “It can be seen as an honour.”

Will tipped his head back, exposing more of his throat to Hannibal's touch. 

“Are you honouring me now?”

Hannibal slipped his finger through the ring where the leash was attached and tugged, once. “I hope we are both honouring each other.”

A slow, broad smile slipped over Will’s face. “This isn't just any collar, it's yours. Do you imagine I would wear anyone else's?”

There was warmth in Hannibal's expression, and amusement too, as he let go of the ring and smoothed his fingers up Will's neck, along his jaw to his lips. Will kissed his fingertips.

“Though you haven’t answered my question, Hannibal.”

Hannibal frowned thoughtfully, and didn’t speak for several moments. “Perhaps there was a lingering part of me that hoped this might help me assert control over my feelings for you. And instead I have only entangled myself further. But I am not sorry for that.”

Will worried the tip of Hannibal’s finger with his teeth. “Always closer, deeper, further. I’m beginning to think it’s inescapable.”

Hannibal withdrew his hand from Will’s lips and said, “I have something for you,” as he reached for a plate on the side table. “A treat.”

Hannibal held an amber-coloured petit four out for Will to see. It was small, glittering with sugar, like an exotic candy.

“I prepared these specifically with you in mind. Open your mouth.”

Will obeyed and Hannibal placed it on his tongue. It dissolved instantly, flooding his mouth with fiery soft liquid whisky. There was no trace at all of the jellied sweet left behind, only the crunch of crystallised sugar.

Rolling the lingering smoky-sweetness around his palate, Will smiled. “I want to ask how you did that but I think it might spoil the magic if I knew.”

Pleasure crinkled around Hannibal’s eyes, and Will sat up to kiss him, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and sliding his mouth warm against Hannibal’s. The chain clinked between them, and Hannibal used it to pull Will in close to him. Will threw a leg over Hannibal’s, to sit straddling his lap, hot kisses becoming deeper and more desperate. When they broke apart, breathless and smiling, Hannibal held another out to him.

“One more?” 

Will grinned, dipping his head to take it with exaggerated care from Hannibal’s fingers. As soon as it melted, he pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s again, whisky burning his lips. Hannibal licked into his mouth, tasting him, then tangled his fingers in Will’s hair. He used his grip to yank Will’s head, just short of rough, baring his neck. Hannibal nosed into the soft skin above the collar, teeth scraping over it, tongue soothing.

“I could get used to the scent of leather around your throat.”

Will groaned, and pressed forward into Hannibal, grinding against him. It was delicious, rutting against each other on the sofa, fully clothed.

“I want to see what it looks like,” Will said. “The collar. Show me.”

Hannibal hummed against his ear, and then pulled back to look at Will. His eyes burned and his hair was rumpled already from Will’s hands. 

“My lovely exhibitionist,” Hannibal said. “Stand, then, and I will.”

Will slid from his lap, and Hannibal led Will to stand in front of the fire, to the large mirror which hung above it. As they reached it, Hannibal tightened the chain, drawing Will toward him. Will saw how his neck bent to the pressure as he followed its pull, and the obvious pleasure on Hannibal’s face at doing so. His own face was wide-eyed, lips parted in anticipation. The collar around his neck looked sturdy, meaningful. Hannibal brought Will to stand in front of him, close to the mirror’s surface, and spoke over Will’s shoulder.

“What do you see?”

Will took in a shaky breath, then smiled as he met Hannibal’s eyes in the mirror. “You know what I can see - you can see it too.” He leaned into the warmth of Hannibal’s mouth grazing over his cheek. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

Hannibal’s teeth nipped his ear gently and said, “I think it’s time for you to strip now.” 

Hannibal’s arms reached around him to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one. As his hands travelled lower, they fell below the frame of the mirror, where Will’s eyes couldn’t follow. Instead he was left staring at the fabric of his shirt as it fell open, its folds shifting, manipulated by Hannibal’s fingers as his shirt was pulled free of his pants. Hannibal firmly palmed Will’s cock, and Will’s eyes flew up to his meet his own in the mirror. The fleeting pleasure which danced across his face looked indistinguishable from pain, quickly to be replaced by longing desire as Hannibal withdrew his hand. Hannibal was watching him from over his shoulder.

“So very beautiful,” he breathed into Will’s ear. “So responsive to my touch.”

He tugged the collar of Will’s shirt and, pulling down, slid it back over Will’s arms. “No more delay. I want you naked, please.”

Together they undressed Will, pants and underwear discarded as Hannibal freed Will from his t-shirt and manoeuvred it over the leash. Hannibal held the chain out in a taut line and ran an appraising, warm hand slowly down over Will’s torso. Will was transfixed by their reflected selves, by the certainty he saw there.

Hannibal smiled in the mirror and said, simply, “Mine.”

Will nodded, eyes fluttering closed. His breaths were coming short and fast, his hands twitched at his side. He longed for more but loved this all the same, the delicious tease, being put on display. His hands found Hannibal’s thighs, just behind his own, and he twisted his fingers into the suit fabric; clutched at the lean muscle underneath.

“You have come such a long way, Will. So sure of your desires now, so accepting and eager to enjoy them.”

Will let Hannibal take his weight as he leaned back against him, his hands holding whatever parts of Hannibal he could reach. He laughed, and said, “And you take the credit for that, of course.”

Hannibal’s lips travelled over his cheek again, almost to the corner of his mouth. “Only some of the credit is mine. I hope to reap all of the rewards, however.”

“Oh, you will, I’m sure of that.”

“What things do I have to look forward to, then? Can you tell me what you think about? What you might think about now?” Hannibal grasped the chain just below the collar, and ran his grip down its length, so Will felt its pull. “I can use this,” Hannibal hooked his thumb through the ring at the front, “to harness your wrists and ankles together. I can chain you and leave you, returning at intervals to stimulate you and then deny you orgasm, repeatedly. Or it could remain ornamental, only there so you can feel the weight of my ownership around your neck, a comfort or a curse depending on what I do to you.”

Will tipped his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder and groaned. “Yes. All of that.”

Hannibal grinned, wolfishly. “Greedy.”

His hand slid low over Will’s stomach and firmly grasped Will’s cock. Will’s mouth fell open and he gasped loudly at the suddenness of it. Hannibal lightly rubbed him once, trailing his hand down his length and then releasing him. 

“What about rope? I could take a single piece and wind it around you just so, leaving you immobilised in a position of my choosing. Would you like that?”

Will didn’t speak this time, just moaned his agreement. He found himself starting to press back into Hannibal, writhing against him, silently vying for Hannibal to touch him again.

“I see you are getting impatient. Another time I might see fit to punish you for that,” Hannibal paused, and Will swallowed heavily, throat working against his collar. “But as tonight is a special occasion, you should be indulged. Tell me what you would like, Will, and you shall have it.”

Will thought about everything Hannibal had just said and more besides. His focus settled on the strength and solidity of Hannibal behind him, his graceful power. On the chain that linked them, and the shifting, stimulating balance of their relationship.

“I’d like to fuck you.”

A momentary stillness passed over Hannibal’s movements, the only betrayal of his surprise.

“If that’s something you like, of course,” Will added.

“May I ask, why now?”

“It seems like it’s the right time. Me inside you while you hold my leash. There’s balance.”

“Your confidence in me has grown. You can claim me too now, rather than just let me claim you.”

Will nodded at Hannibal’s reflection. “Is that something you can do?”

Hannibal smiled. “Will, I am already yours. You may claim me however you wish.”

 

Will sat on the end of Hannibal’s bed, the end of leash in own his hands - passed to him for safekeeping while Hannibal undressed. It was a slow and studied performance. His tie was loosened and unravelled, then carefully returned to it’s place in Hannibal’s closet. Cufflinks the same. Waistcoat and shirt were unbuttoned, one re-hung in the wardrobe, one dropped in the laundry hamper. Will twisted the leather loop through his fingers, still warm from Hannibal’s hold on it. By the time Hannibal stood naked before him, Will was ready to feel it back where it belonged. Hannibal joined him on the bed, slipped the loop over his wrist, and settled back against the pillows.

“Stay as you are, please. I’d like you to watch.” Hannibal dropped a bottle of lubricant onto the bed beside him. “As it happens, I do enjoy being penetrated. And before you ask, no - never with clients.”

Will took that in silently, that there still had been others, noticing the swell of jealousy within. Hannibal watched him keenly, no doubt easily reading it in his expression. Instead, Will focused on the elegant sweep of Hannibal laid out on the bed before him. He shuffled closer, to sit between Hannibal’s ankles. He thought about how Hannibal was his, how he wore his collar. How Hannibal loved him. How he was going to fuck him, make him think only of Will as he did so.

The pop of the bottle cap drew his attention back to Hannibal’s face. Will felt heat flare in his face and in his belly. His cock was lazily hard, waiting.

“Never with anyone like you, though.” Hannibal tugged at the leash. “You are unique.”

Will ran his fingertips up Hannibal’s shin, feeling the gentle prickle of hair under them, and watched as Hannibal slicked his fingers. He grasped his dick lightly with one hand, just a slow teasing pull, and drew his legs up. His fingers slid down behind his balls, immediately seeking out his hole. Will sighed with want, and came closer still, to brush his cheek over Hannibal’s knee. Hannibal circled his finger over the puckered skin, leaving it wet and glistening, then bore down on the tip to take it inside himself to the first knuckle. An involuntary gasp escaped Will, at the sight of Hannibal’s tightness tugging at his finger as he pulled it slowly out.

“Are you imagining what I will feel like when you are inside me?”

Will grinned and bit gently at the meat of Hannibal’s calf. “Are you imagining what I will feel like when I am inside you?”

Apart from a hungry look, Hannibal didn’t respond directly but instead began to insistently work himself, stretching and loosening. Will’s cock twitched in sympathy at being worked steadily open, Hannibal’s fingers alternating between gentle and rough. When Hannibal plunged them deep inside, to rub his prostate, Will moaned softly into his skin, breath stirring the fine hairs there. His cock ached, and he squeezed his fingers around his shaft, resisting the urge to push into his hand.

Hannibal held the bottle of lube out and Will took it, hand shaky as he poured some out and hastily fisted it over his dick. They were both breathing harshly, almost panting. Hannibal withdrew his fingers and used the leash to pull Will closer between his legs.

Will stared down at him, slick fingers hovering over his hole. “Can I?”

Hannibal nodded, and Will brushed just the tips over the sensitive skin, and tentatively dipped inside. The heat and wetness were shocking with their intimacy, and Will pushed deeper, watching as Hannibal gasped as he stroked him internally. Will saw the tremors of pleasure he caused ripple over Hannibal’s body, the flexing of his stomach muscles, the tight, drawn-in breaths, the clench of his throat. 

He couldn’t wait any longer and knelt carefully, pressed close to Hannibal’s buttocks. He drew his fingers along the underside of Hannibal’s thighs, and pushed at the bend of his knees until Hannibal brought his legs up. Hannibal hooked them over Will’s shoulders as Will pressed the blunt tip of his cock against Hannibal’s entrance. The slight give of Hannibal’s body as he pushed inside left them both panting. The muscle of Hannibal’s thighs shifted, tightening and pulling Will downwards, encouraging Will to sink forward so he was fully enclosed in Hannibal's tight heat.

Both of them moaned. Will shivered, feeling every quiver of tight muscle around his cock, buried in slick wet heat. To steady himself, he ran his hands down over the long length of Hannibal's legs, stroking down his thighs, up over his hips, kneading the hint of softness around his middle. Will was open-mouthed with want. Hannibal looked incredible, spread beneath him, hard and panting for Will. 

Hannibal tightened the leash a fraction, pulling Will's attention back to his face.

"What would you like, Will?" he asked, sounding more composed than he looked.

Will took a calming breath before speaking. "I want to fuck you. I want to make you come, just with my cock." His breathing hitched as he spoke, his hips desperate to stutter forward, to take what he wanted. Instead he forced himself to wait for Hannibal's response.

Hannibal smiled lazily, and rolled his hips up against Will. "Do you need my permission?"

Will placed firm hands on Hannibal's hips, readying himself. "I'd like to hear you say it."

Hannibal pulled tighter on the leash, and Will felt the collar press into the back of his neck. He followed its pull downwards, until he was leaning over Hannibal, almost close enough to kiss. Will felt himself shift inside Hannibal, even deeper than before.

"Fuck me, Will, make me come. Just like this."

Will moaned, his need increasingly desperate. Relaxing his grip on Will's leash, Hannibal raised his hands above his head, the chain now slack between them. Will was free to kneel back and see the deliberate display of invitation beneath him. He took hold of Hannibal's hips again, pulled a little way out and then snapped his hips forward sharply. And then again, and again. The sight of Hannibal’s breath forced out of him by each of Will's thrusts, his cock hard against his stomach, was intoxicating. Hannibal rocked up into each one, the smack of their bodies joining sounded out loud and filthy.

Will was sorely tempted to fuck into him carelessly until he was spent but made himself slow. His arms were already straining from holding Hannibal's hips up, so he could fuck him hard and deep. He tried not to watch his wet thrusts into Hannibal, or the hardness of Hannibal’s cock, untouched and leaking across his stomach. Instead he concentrated on Hannibal's face, his expression a mixture of pride, adoration and lust, eyes roving over the sight of Will above him. He was panting hard and groaned now every time Will canted his hips into him.

"Yes," said Will. "Yes, like that. But more, I want more. I want you desperate for it, Hannibal. Let me see you."

Hannibal shut his eyes and clenched his fists, still held above his head. His cock twitched, his balls drawn up tight and full. Will thrust his hips again, hard, and twisting his hips so Hannibal shouted out a moan. Will hissed in pleasure, the thrill of having Hannibal like this coursing through him. They were both close now, and Will began to thrust with abandon, losing himself in it, in the power of having Hannibal like this. It was beautiful - the collar around his neck, slippery with his own sweat, and his sleek, dangerous lover writhing with pleasure underneath him.

As Hannibal began to shake apart, Will encouraged him on with broken words and praises, fucking him through it relentlessly, and desperately clinging on to his own climax. Hannibal loudly moaned out Will's name as he came, clenching down hard around Will, his own cock spurting untouched over his chest. Will dragged his fingers through his come, smearing it down over his stomach, as his thrusts grew erratic. Hannibal tightened the leash, suddenly, so Will could feel the pull of the collar around his neck. His orgasm rushed through him, a blissful moment of ecstatic release, leaving him panting and sore and smiling.

Will pressed his face into Hannibal’s knee, still heavy over his shoulder, and just breathed against his skin until Hannibal gently tugged at the leash. Will eased Hannibal’s legs down to the bed, and crawled up to lie beside him. Strong arms pulled him close and Will let them, utterly boneless. Hannibal’s neck was as hot and sweaty as his own, he smelled pleasingly animal. Hannibal kissed his forehead as his eyes slipped closed.

He didn’t sleep for long - the need to stretch aching muscles and clean up became too great after a short while. Predictably, when he opened his eyes, it was to find Hannibal watching him.

“Do you always watch me like that?”

“What else would you have me do while you sleep on top of me?”

“I’m not on top of you,” Will mumbled into his shoulder, but it wasn’t strictly true. He had an arm flung out over Hannibal’s chest, and a leg hooked over Hannibal’s too. He blinked himself awake, and followed Hannibal into the shower.

Once clean, they lingered under the spray together, kissing lazily and happily. Will’s collar waited in the dry safety of the bedroom. Instead Hannibal rested his hand heavily on the back of Will’s neck, sometimes kneading the muscles there, sometimes bringing up both hands to cradle it as they kissed. Eventually they just leaned against each other, and when Will lay his head on Hannibal’s shoulder he knew this was what love felt like.

For once, he wore it quite easily, a tight band of painful pleasure around his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to make clear that Hannibal's attitude to his collared clients is very much not what anyone should expect from D/s relationship!!
> 
> I nicked the whisky jelly (jello for US readers) petit four idea from the menu at Heston Blumenthal’s restaurant, the Fat Duck. I have no idea if they still serve them, but they did when I was there about 7 years ago, and I hope they still do. They really do turn to liquid instantly, like magic.
> 
> And finally, for anyone interested, [Will’s collar](http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/fleet-ilya-thin-leather-bondage-collar/) (but in brown).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter! The next update will be the final one, with the last chapter and epilogue being posted together.
> 
> If any readers feel they're going to miss this AU, do not fear. I have a series of timestamps planned - one was written a bit early for the #justfuckmeup challenge - [A Luxury of Punishments](http://archiveofourown.org/series/481585).

Will was on top of a ladder in the fall sunshine, clearing leaves from his gutters, when it occurred to him. _What if Hannibal were here now?_

His dogs were milling around happily below him, tired from their earlier romp in the woods. After the gutters, there were other chores to do - making the dogs’ food, washing his sheets, cleaning the car. Fixing the toaster, which was stuck and refused to pop up anymore. _No doubt Hannibal would just buy a new one._ Pleasant, quiet and useful activities, which brought satisfaction and routine. The space where where so much of his living was done, unspectacular and ordinary.

It seemed ridiculous he’d never thought it before. Hannibal was in his thoughts nearly constantly as a silent imaginary presence; a strange place of safety. But not as something to be found in his own house. He’d visited, to feed the dogs in Will’s absence, or to drop him off, but he’d never stayed to eat or sleep there. 

Will knew their relationship had so far played out in a bubble of Hannibal’s own making, and had been more than happy to follow his lead. It had allowed Will to not think too much, not look too closely. Without that, it was unlikely they would have made it this far. But now that Hannibal openly spoke of loving Will, of wanting to commit to him, they couldn’t continue in the same manner. So what would that look like, if Hannibal were here? If they spent more time together, outside of their ritualised Wednesday and weekend evenings? 

He stood in his kitchen and imagined Hannibal in it. It came easier than he’d believed - Hannibal had an unnerving ability to strike just the right tone wherever he was. Instead of seeing the dog hair on the sofa, he would admire the seasoned oak of his old kitchen table. He would approve of Will’s efficient collection of cooking implements - battered maybe, but sturdy and well-cared for. But that didn't change that fact that he wouldn't belong here, not permanently. And neither, really, did Will at Hannibal’s - not all of him, at least.

 

Hannibal kept Will’s collar - each time Will returned, it was placed back around his neck and he would feel secure once more. Then they would both sink back into their shared explorations, ready to wallow again in their consuming desires for each other. Before that could happen this time, Will got straight to the point.

“Assuming we take this further, where would we live? And how?”

“Have you decided you would like that?” From behind him, Hannibal’s voice hardly missed a beat as the buckle of the collar slid into place.

“It’s hard to know what I would be choosing. I need to know what it would mean.” Will felt rather than heard Hannibal’s small exhalation against his ear. “Sorry. But I want to discuss this, before- well, before we get carried away.”

Hannibal kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll pour some wine. We can eat early tonight.”

 

Seated at the table, Will began again. “The things we’ve talked about recently - the collar, you wanting to marry me. I started to think about how it might work if we really did that.”

“Do you think I haven’t?”

“I’m not saying that. But when I’m here I don’t think about anything else but this.” Will gestured at the both of them, sat in Hannibal’s plush, intimately-lit dining room. “It’s like I leave this part of me here, when I leave. I’m someone different at home.”

“So you feel divided.”

“Yes, exactly. Whereas you remain whole. And I keep trying to work out how those two things fit. I know deep down you'd like me to give up everything but you - just move in here and be yours completely. But I have a house, a job, commitments. Things I don’t want to leave behind.”

Hannibal swilled his wine around his glass, staring into it. “Yes, I would like that. But I don’t believe you’d ever allow it. I may have extremely selfish desires sometimes but my expectations are more realistic.”

“So what’s your answer to that?”

“I don’t have one, not yet, but one will present itself in time. And perversely, if you did allow that to happen I would end up regretting it. You would no longer be fully yourself, and I would not love you the way I do now.”

Will smiled broadly, struck by how much he now liked hearing those words spoken. “Which leaves us balanced on a knife-edge. I should be yours but my own, also.”

Hannibal considered, head to one side as he regarded Will. “You do not seem to mind that precariousness as much as not knowing how and where we would live.”

“Generally speaking, love is unlikely between anyone. If it should exist at all, I don’t see why we shouldn’t survive on our particular precipice. Practicalities concern me more.”

 

After they’d eaten, Will was still restless. He wanted this to work, but it was difficult to see how it could without some form of change. As they tidied the kitchen together, Will contemplated domesticity with Hannibal. He wasn’t convinced that Hannibal really had thought about what it would be like to live together, perhaps assuming that Will would fall in with his own habits eventually. And what would Hannibal expect if Will were to live with him and wear his collar too? 

“If we lived together and things weren't always so intense between us, you wouldn’t be disappointed? We'd have arguments about stupid things like whose turn it was to do laundry.”

“Would you still be mine?”

“Of course.”

“Then I could never be disappointed.”

Will was silent, and continued polishing wine glasses.

“You think I'm too optimistic. Or maybe even that I will grow bored of you?”

“More that you expect a lot from us. Now we only spend the intense, blissful moments together and live the rest of our lives separately. If that were to change...I am only trying to picture what it might be like.” Will set down a glass and picked up another. As an afterthought, he added, “Plus disappointment is an uncomfortable fact of life.”

“Let me clarify. Yes, life is full of disappointments, but they range from small, dreary instants to life-changing missed opportunities. I would never recommend neglecting the latter for fear of the former.”

Will shook his head, brandishing the dish towel he held at Hannibal. “If you say _carpe diem_ I swear I will walk out of here.”

Hannibal smiled, and looked thoughtful. “Would you feel differently if I told you to kneel? If I had you wait quietly like that?”

“It wouldn't stop me having these questions, Hannibal. You can't just make them go away like that.”

“You are second-guessing. It helps you to focus, calms you.”

Frowning, Will said, “There's a time and a place. A serious conversation about our relationship is not it.”

“Will…” Hannibal gently grasped his wrist, an attempt at grounding him which only helped Will notice how his pulse throbbed irritably under Hannibal's fingers. “You are overthinking this. Every relationship has to deal with these adjustments, not just ours.”

Will paused, remaining absolutely still under Hannibal’s touch. He felt a growing sense that his fears were not without foundation. “I think you're being complacent.”

Hannibal blinked, surprised at the accusation.

“You still think that somehow I'm just going to fit into your neat existence.” Will gently twisted his arm out of Hannibal's hand. “If this is going to work, I can't be the only one making compromises.”

Hannibal reached for him again, this time as if to pull Will into his embrace. Will surprised himself by resisting, slipping out of his grasp. He knew Hannibal only offered him comfort and wanted to believe this would be easier to navigate that he thought. He could just sink to his knees, let Hannibal stroke soft fingers through his hair and stop worrying. But he knew he was right and that he couldn't rely on Hannibal's judgement here.

Will said, “You're not listening. Stop trying to convince me it’s all in my head.”

There was a moment when Hannibal looked unsure, almost lost, then he pressed in very close to Will, catching both wrists this time in his hands. It was gentle but firm, insistent. Will sagged a little, very tempted to shut off his brain for a while. It was simpler that way, after all.

“Will, listen to me…” Hannibal said, placatingly, but that was as far as he got.

“I’m not interested, Hannibal, I want you to pay attention instead.” Will yanked his arms away and shoved Hannibal back, up against the wall. As soon as Will found his hands flat on Hannibal's chest, holding him in place, he dropped them as if burned. Hannibal looked curiously at him and Will stepped back, averting his eyes to look past him at the wall. 

“Sorry, I… didn't mean for that to happen.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he was almost surprised to feel the buckle of his collar under his fingers. “I overreacted. I just needed a bit of space, that's all.”

Hannibal said nothing further, curiously blank, but nodded and picked up his fallen dish towel. He went back to the sink, and Will followed.

“I understand,” Hannibal said, and calmly continued polishing his glassware. 

Will didn't know what else to say, so he just carried on where he'd left off, the subject ostensibly dropped.

Except Will knew it wasn't. He was aware of Hannibal watching him, surreptitiously, could feel his eyes on him when he turned his back to stow plates away. Will expected disapprobation but that wasn't quite what he gleaned from Hannibal’s glances. There was something else in Hannibal's demeanour, something appraising _._ Like he'd just seen something new and was filtering it, teasing out grains of information, re-calculating.

 

Their tasks finished in apparent companionable silence, Hannibal suggested a digestif and carried a tray of drinks into the living room. Will closed the door behind them, and wondered how the rest of their evening would progress. Perhaps he should just sit down at Hannibal’s feet and leave this conversation for another time. He knew Hannibal would happily allow this for now, yet Will could not shake the sensation of his hands pressing flat onto Hannibal’s chest. And Hannibal’s careful eyes continued to study him, watchful.

Instead of letting Hannibal provide a cue to follow, Will took his whisky and sat at one end of the sofa, waiting to see what Hannibal would do. With a minute twitch of his jaw, Hannibal went to stand by the fireplace, cognac cradled in one hand. The silence between them continued, no longer a pretence at amiable and domestic and now something more alive. 

After some minutes had passed, Hannibal turned to him. “I apologise for pressing you when you did not want to be. I’m sorry I could not give you the comfort you needed.”

“I didn’t need comfort, Hannibal. I just wanted you to listen.”

“Your reaction was interesting, you must admit. You took me by surprise.”

Will sighed. “I know, I didn’t mean to - I just don’t like the feeling of being managed.”

“Evidently. But you are mine, are you not?”

“Yes. But you don’t manage me. We coalesce.”

“As equals, I presume?”

“Mostly, sometimes… not. Depending on the mood, our present desires.”

“So you only kneel when it suits your current mood?”

“No, _our_ mood. And you know very well your skill is in making me _want_ to kneel. If I obeyed you without question, you would be bored.” Will stood, and moved to the other side of the fireplace, where he leaned on the mantle. “What are these questions really about, Hannibal?”

“I’m simply trying to understand your motivations.”

“You know my motivations, we don’t need to play therapy any more. But if you want to, then, by all means continue.”

Hannibal watched him unblinkingly, shadowed by the flames below. 

“Tell me your motivations, then. Why do you kneel when I ask you to?”

“Because… I like it. It’s exciting. And beyond that… it’s a way of showing my feelings for you, and letting you show me yours.”

“And yet catch you wrongly, cage you in, and you fight back.”

“That’s an exaggeration, I hardly fought.”

“Didn’t you? Perhaps you’d like to play rough?”

“What? Hannibal no, that’s not it.”

“You’ve never wanted to push back - to see what would happen?”

“No, I _like_ being submissive with you, I don’t need to resist. Not like that.”

“You love it when I hold you down, let you struggle. It’s not that different.”

Will took a steadying breath. “Hannibal, stop. You know that’s not the same.”

“You seem curiously resistant to the idea, perhaps a little too much.” Hannibal bent closer, near enough to kiss. “Can you not still feel your palms on my chest, holding me down? Could you not imagine how much greater your submission would feel if I had to fight you for it?”

“Hannibal…”

Swiftly, Hannibal grabbed hold of Will’s wrists and pulled them above his head, backing him towards the wall. Will let him, resigned, desiring to prove him wrong. His wrists were pressed against the cool, hard surface as Hannibal leaned over him, watching him with intense scrutiny again. Will strained against him and, finding that Hannibal did not release him, sighed.

“So, you’re just going to hold me here until I fight back?”

Hannibal dipped his head, to speak in Will’s ear, softly. “You did not see your expression as you held me down. It was beautiful, but quickly quashed.” He pressed closer, entwining their legs together and canting his hips into Will’s, grinding. Nose-to-nose, he continued, “What’s it to be, Will - struggle or submit? Or struggle and then submit?”

Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes, wondering how exactly he’d ended up here and if this had all been in some way contrived. It was obvious Hannibal wanted him to play along though he couldn’t divine precisely why. Perhaps that Hannibal wanted it was enough. Perhaps it was better to place his worries on hold and allow himself to be distracted.

Opening his eyes, Will said into the air above him, “I know you’re deliberately leaving the implication dangling that to submit first is the weaker choice, aiming to rile me.” He shifted, straightening his shoulders, and looked Hannibal in the eye. “It’s not working. But if it means that much to you, I’ll play along.”

Hannibal grinned and said, “How obedient of you.”

“This isn’t obedience, this is _selflessness._ ” Will countered. “And when I play, it’s to win.”

Hannibal pinned his wrists harder and rolled his hips into Will’s, shuddering a groan out of him. Will wistfully thought about how much he would enjoy being held down like this in other circumstances, but maybe Hannibal had a point. It would be interesting to see how it would feel to have his submission taken rather than given.

“Rules?” Will asked. “Before we begin.”

“I will let you set them.”

“How gracious of you,” Will said. “Fine. No breaking the skin, definitely. No visible marks, I have class in a couple of days. And to make it interesting, let’s say nothing we couldn’t cope with being done to ourselves. Loser is whoever gives up first.”

Pleased, Hannibal kissed him once, quick and hungry. Almost Hannibal’s full weight was pressed into Will, both hands tightly wrapped around his wrists crossed overhead. Will kissed him back and ground his hips into Hannibal’s, a slow writhe, enjoying Hannibal’s hardness nudging against him. Then quickly he leapt upwards, wrapping his legs tight around Hannibal’s thighs, and unbalancing them both. His wrists slipped from Hannibal’s grasp as they both crashed to the floor, and Will wrested himself away.

His advantage was quickly lost, stricken with gleeful laughter at Hannibal’s obvious surprise at suddenly finding himself crumpled on the floor. Hannibal dragged himself over to Will and planted himself heavily atop him, laughing too. He was not as coordinated as usual but it was enough to subdue Will. Will struggled but Hannibal managed to grab his wrists once more, holding them outstretched and firmly against the floor. Will lay there, grinning widely and chest still shaking with silent mirth. Hannibal disentangled his legs from Will’s to find a better position, hair fallen loose and looking half-feral with triumph. It was impossible to let him win like this, Will decided. He bucked up against Hannibal, grinding and gasping, all subtlety abandoned in his determination.

“Disgraceful,” Hannibal said, “Trying to distract me with your wanton sexuality. Do you give up, Will?”

“You’re going to have to make me,” came Will’s answer, pitching all his weight to one side and forcing Hannibal over. They rolled apart and Will staggered to his feet.

Hannibal stood gracefully and took the opportunity to slide off his jacket, placing it carefully over the back of the sofa. Will smiled at the incongruousness of it, both of them hot, slightly sweaty, panting breathless in an expensively furnished room. Both old enough to know better and both aware how at odds this was with Hannibal’s polished persona. 

“Shouldn’t we be doing this somewhere with fewer antiques?” Will said, smirking only a little.

Hannibal’s eyes flicked over to him. “I had no idea you cared so much about them.” He rolled up his sleeves, cufflinks placed in safety on the mantelpiece. “I’m sure they won’t be in danger for too much longer though.”

Will rolled his eyes and waited, as Hannibal circled him. He let him come closer and closer, backing up towards the end of the sofa. When Hannibal finally lunged at him, faster than even Will had expected, Will managed to dodge behind to slip a forearm around his neck in a light choke hold.

“No, I don’t imagine they will. Did you forget I was a cop, Hannibal?”

Hannibal struggled briefly then appeared to relax, and didn’t answer. Will allowed him some time to decide to give up, and even considered letting Hannibal win so he could be extremely enjoyably fucked into the carpet. But then Will reflected how that could be his prize for winning, and a suitable consolation for Hannibal.

He was taken by surprise when Hannibal shoved his foot back in between his own, and almost succeeded in tripping him. They both stumbled, and Hannibal used the slack in Will’s arms to make a quarter-turn, digging his elbow into Will’s ribs to try to force him to let go. Will fought to regain his hold, but in the distraction Hannibal managed to yank himself free. He turned to pin Will’s arms to his sides but before he could secure his hold, Will forced his forearms up and out. He didn’t register his elbow connecting with teeth until he had Hannibal immobilised against the sofa, arms pinioned harshly behind his back.

The shock showed on both their faces, both panting hard from their efforts. Will's weight leant almost cruelly into Hannibal, crushing him awkwardly against the arm of the sofa. Blood trickled from Hannibal’s split and swelling lip. When their eyes met, Will felt the fight start to seep out of him and began to withdraw, to open his mouth to apologise.

“Don't back down now. You were doing so well.” Hannibal was dishevelled, chest heaving still. His eyes were slightly wider than usual but curious, challenging. “If this was a game we were to play, how would you finish it?” 

There was a moment where Will wasn't sure to what he referred - it was finished, their play fight had already gone too far. But then Hannibal rolled his hips into his own, slowly, deliberately. He was hard still, mouth parted in anticipation. The atmosphere in the room shifted, a different kind of excitement saturating the air.

Will shook his head to deny the possibility, that this was what he’d intended, but Hannibal’s gaze didn’t falter.

“You won. So claim me.”

“You can’t really mean that? Are you sure?”

“If you're going to do this, don't ask. Take.” Hannibal growled, rough, almost urgently. In a rush, Will understood what he needed.

“You want me to,” Will breathed. “You want to give in to me. But you need me to make you.”

He could understand this - the need to be overwhelmed by the one you loved. Will shivered, certain Hannibal had allowed no one else this before. He thought about the urge Hannibal had to control his emotions, and how exhausting it must be. How insistent he was that it was only Will who caused him to feel so deeply. What relief it might bring to give in to it, even just once.

Taking a step back, Will regarded Hannibal where he lay sprawled back against the sofa, and found he knew exactly what approach to take. He straightened and composed himself, pulling the neck of his shirt back into place and brushed imaginary creases out of his clothes. 

“You've been complacent, Hannibal. You would not listen to me earlier and you need to remember what it is you stand to lose. Or keep. It's up to you.”

Hannibal watched him, body utterly still as his head turned to follow Will as he moved away, around the sofa. There was a glitter of danger in his eye despite his demand of Will. He wouldn't be able to release his control easily - Will would have to work for it.

Will seated himself on the sofa cushion and spread his legs. When he unfastened his jeans he did it slowly, ensuring the zipper made as much noise as possible.

“Get on your knees,” Will said, pointing between his legs. “Here.”

Wary as a cornered tiger, Hannibal twisted around to track Will's movements. When he stood it was with reluctance, and he came to a slow stand in front of Will as if being reeled in by an invisible power.

That wouldn’t do, thought Will. “Not quick enough. Knees. Now.”

Hannibal was silent but did as he was told, his presence baleful and intense between Will’s legs. It was only a small triumph but exhilarating all the same.

“This is exactly what I mean by complacence. Do you expect me to sit here and wait for you?”

As he spoke Will pressed the heel of his palm over his dick, and ground down a little. Hannibal's eyes followed his movements, taking in the thickening swell in Will’s briefs. Will gasped, openly enjoying himself, at finding a new way to display himself for Hannibal. When he reached inside his pants to bring his cock out, Hannibal's lips fell open, just a fraction. His lip had stopped bleeding but would likely split open again, and immediately Will longed to taste his mouth.

“You’d better show me how much want me, Hannibal. If it’s not good enough, I might get up and leave you here, on your knees. Alone.”

Hannibal's jaw was set, tensed for action but for what kind Will could not tell. He kept going regardless, trusting in his instincts. He stroked himself with a teasing grip, made sure Hannibal could see, _smell_ him. Hannibal didn't take his eyes off him once but didn't move, like he was stuck, unable to go backwards or forwards. Will decided to make it easy for him and fisted a hand in the front of Hannibal's shirt to roughly pull him closer. Hannibal's eyes burned, a harsh gasp forced out of him.

“Show me.”

Something clicked in Hannibal’s expression, and as he bent over Will he glanced up, part snarl, part desire and part submission. Then he took up his task with aplomb, mouth sinking down deeply on Will’s cock, tongue swirling around the tip as he pulled back up. Will tipped his head back and groaned, curling his fingers through Hannibal's hair. At first he simply sat back and watched, his cock growing slick and wet under Hannibal’s tongue, his bruised and reddened lips sliding over the shaft. Hannibal sucked him lavishly, performatively, until the resistance drained out of him and the need to control even this melted away.

“Yes, better,” Will praised, and thrust up into his mouth. Hannibal stilled under Will’s hands, relaxing and letting him fuck his mouth in short, sharp strokes. “That’s it, let me use you. My pleasure is all you should care about.”

Hannibal’s hands were gripping into Will’s thigh, painfully tight and Will revelled in it. He was almost shocked at himself for enjoying this so much, but the prospect of having Hannibal come apart for him like this was incredible. He released Hannibal’s hair, confident now of a more suitably submissive attitude, and watched Hannibal desperately laving his tongue over his cock, almost worshipful. Will groaned, knowing there was little chance he would last long. 

“Very good,” he said, “I am going to come like this, in your mouth, and you’re going to lick up every drop you spill.”

Hannibal moaned then, fingertips digging harder into the muscle of Will’s thigh. He pushed his shin in between Hannibal’s legs, pressing up against his cock so Hannibal could rub against him.

“That’s all you deserve,” Will said. “If you want more, you will need to earn it.”

Another groan from Hannibal, sucking Will hard, uncaring for his damaged lip or the indignity of his need. Will felt his orgasm approach and thrust erratically, before emptying himself into Hannibal’s mouth. He watched Hannibal swallow around him, and felt sure that trickle which escaped his lips was entirely deliberate. He was still breathing hard, panting, as Hannibal obediently licked him clean and ground his hips hard against Will’s leg. He broke away to push his face into Will’s thigh, shuddering, breath hot and damp through Will’s jeans as he came silently except for occasional broken gasps.

Will tipped his head back against the sofa, eyes shut, fingers once more tight in Hannibal’s hair. As his orgasmic rush receded, uncertainty crept in. It had happened so quickly there had been little time to think, to be sure of what they were doing. He was relieved when he looked down to meet Hannibal’s eyes and found ardour there.

“You’re not supposed to look proud of me, that ruins the illusion,” Will said, carding gentle fingers through his hair.

Hannibal hummed in agreement, and rested his cheek onto Will’s leg. His lip was bleeding again.

“Do I look like that afterwards?”

“No, you look proud of yourself.” Hannibal pulled himself up to kneel, grimacing slightly at his sore knees and ruined trousers. “But as you are exceptional in every regard, I can’t begrudge you that.”

“I’m not that bad, am I?” Will smiled as he reached for him, and together they negotiated their assorted aches and bruises to settle comfortably on the sofa.

Hannibal sighed and said, “I’m afraid so. You seem to have taken me to pieces without even trying to.”

Will wrapped his arms around him, and kissed his temple. “I’ll put you back together again, don’t worry.”

 

They prepared for bed, only obliquely addressing the evening’s unexpected turn of events with soft reassuring touches and languid kisses as they showered together. Will felt keenly how Hannibal would need this from him - an open, affectionate adoration which flowed from Will without effort. Hannibal himself was unsurprisingly quiet, but reasonably tranquil. He watched from the bathroom doorway, wrapped in a robe, as Will stood in front of the dresser where his collar lay. Will remembered taking it off, distracted by the need to wash and go to sleep, and with Hannibal already waiting in the shower. He picked it up, smiled, and refastened it himself, back around his neck.

“I wondered,” Hannibal said. “You may have thought me not all you wanted or expected. Maybe I am not.”

“There's no obligation attached, remember? No promises to do this or be that.” Will picked up a towel and rubbed it roughly through his hair. “Which goes both ways.”

Hannibal said nothing, seeming more doubtful now. Before Will joined him in the bed, he retrieved the leash, clipping it to the collar and holding the end out to Hannibal. Hannibal's eyes swept over him, naked and collared, as he took it, wrapping the leather around his hand. Will smiled, and stretched himself out to lie comfortably with his head resting on Hannibal's stomach.

They both lay there, unspeaking, just looking at each other. Hannibal contemplating, holding the leash, and Will sleepily waiting, feeling the swell of slow breaths against his cheek. Hannibal might need time to think, to consider, but Will understood fully now. How this strange man, who lay underneath him, struggled with the amount of love held in his heart, for Will. How keeping it hidden inside, burning and unseen, wasn’t sustainable, and how he would need an outlet for it. Will found that not only could he provide this, he could return this love as well. He smiled again, with simple joy, at the truth of this.

Eventually, Hannibal stirred and said, “You were very good, you know.”

Will weighed his next words carefully, tasting them before speaking. “I could give you what you needed because I know you, Hannibal, I love you.”

Hannibal swallowed, and didn't meet his eyes, looking instead at the leash he held in both hands. “It is the nature of love, I suppose. It makes us vulnerable. We suffer for it - in longing to receive it and because it already grips us, overwhelms us.”

Will stilled the restless movements of Hannibal’s hands, twisting the chain through them. “If we suffer together, equally, what does it matter?”

Hannibal smiled at him, with true warmth and affection. Will shuffled upwards to wrap him in his arms.

“We can do whatever you want,” Will said. “Or need. It's up to you. We don't have to revisit this at all. But if you need to - if you need me to make you, I can.”

Hannibal kissed his neck, nuzzling into the heat of his shoulder.

“And I think I need to make something clear - that offer doesn't mean I don't want this,” Will tugged the chain, for emphasis. “Because I do, so much. And if you have any plans to reassert yourself, I'm eager to participate.”

With a grin, Will ducked his head to kiss Hannibal again, unable to resist running his tongue over the healing cut on his lip. “I can even let you win, next time.”

Hannibal’s mouth curved into a smile, his finger entwining with the leash again, pulling it tight.

“You realise you were agitated about how we would be domestic together, as we were happily being domestic. Leaving your temper and poor opinion of me aside.”

Will huffed a laugh into Hannibal’s mouth. “I don’t have a poor opinion of you. But point taken.”

“Where we would live, I don’t know. But as for how we would live, I think it’s clear that this collar you wear is not the traditional kind. We would live much as we do now - sometimes we would play games and sometimes we would not.”

Will nodded, “It’s a promise, something to trust in. A reminder of how we belong to each other.” 

“And the number of games we could play is expanding.” Hannibal grew thoughtful again, and said. “I think I would like to earn it, Will. If only to see what you’d look like as you made me.”


	11. Chapter 11

At the breakfast table, Will was halfway through a pleasant and languid yawn when Hannibal calmly stated, “I shall need something further from you soon.”

It took a few seconds for his sleep-addled brain to understand what Hannibal meant. Then Will remembered the conversation they'd had a couple of weeks ago, when the ticking calculations of Hannibal's mind were finally arrested by a resolution. An acknowledgement of the complexities of their relationship. An agreement that Hannibal would signal to Will when he felt an opposing pull - towards submission, rather than domination.

Will sprawled back in his chair, now perfectly at home in Hannibal's domain. He watched Hannibal thoughtfully. Hannibal carefully kept his eyes on the newspaper spread out on the table but otherwise seemed perfectly at ease. How much of it was staged for Will’s benefit was still to be discovered. 

He nodded once, unseen by Hannibal, and said, “Okay.” 

Nothing further was said. Will had wondered if Hannibal would change his mind after their short discussion. Hannibal was perfectly capable of leaving that particular door closed and sealing it tight, never to be opened again. But he suspected Hannibal needed this to happen, to conclude the problem Will posed for him. And Will knew he had to do his best to make it work.

All that was now left was for Will to decide when, where, and how, it could. 

 

Once again, the collar was buckled back around Will's neck. Always, as soon as he stepped into Hannibal's house; after he removed his jacket and before he turned to kiss Hannibal. Their ritual greeting, symbolising entry to the sacred space of their relationship.

Except now, Will caught Hannibal's sleeve as he stepped away towards the kitchen.

“It's time, Hannibal,” he said.

Hannibal stilled, curious and assessing eyes taking him in. Then he nodded his comprehension and acceptance silently, lips faintly pursed.

Will tried to sound as calm and level as possible. “Go upstairs, take your clothes off and wait for me.”

A tenseness settled upon Hannibal's shoulders and around his mouth, equal parts trepidation and anticipation. Will watched him walk up the stairs with his usual graceful carriage, and felt his burden lessen a little.

He wandered around the kitchen, running over what he'd decided in preparation for this moment. The first hurdle had been overcome. Sending Hannibal away had been deliberate, to allow them both a short space of adjustment. Also, Will doubted Hannibal would back down from this now he'd begun it. But this way Will would know immediately on entering the room if he should allow it to continue. He stood in the centre of Hannibal’s strictly ordered kitchen, the very heart of the elaborate performance he’d clothed himself in, and felt the weight of his responsibility. 

When he judged enough time had passed and ascended the stairs, Will’s heart began to pound. _Performance anxiety,_ he thought and stifled a nervous laugh. Opening the door, he found Hannibal sitting on the edge of the bed, naked as requested. As Will entered, Hannibal held himself unnaturally still, as if holding his breath. The moment hung suspended in the air, only broken by Will speaking.

“I know what this is about, but I need to be reassured you do too. Tell me what it is you want from me.”

“For you to make me earn it. Your attention, your love.” Hannibal regarded him steadily as he answered. “I want to see what you look like; to know how and when you judge me deserving.”

Will focused inwards, on the steadiness of his heartbeat. He couldn’t decide if that answer was convincing or not - it was probable Hannibal had prepared it days ago, foreseeing such an exchange. This wouldn’t work if Hannibal sought to play games, to believe he retained control. He must be convinced into giving it up.

“I want you to kneel, here.” Will pointed to his feet.

He caught the minor tilt of Hannibal’s head, a gesture which usually indicated interest, a split-second before he stood and walked over to Will. There was nothing submissive in his posture, even as he knelt before Will, looking up clear-eyed and inquisitorial. 

“I'm going to tell you what I want from you tonight. Then I will sit down by the fire and you’ll have ten minutes to decide if you can give it to me. You will consider it for the full amount of time, and then I’ll ask for your answer. If it is yes, you will crawl over to where I sit. If it’s no, we will forget this for now and find another way later. Understood?”

“Yes.” Hannibal had adopted a more suitable posture, hands held demurely behind his back. 

“It’s very simple - your role is to obey, not think. And I want your complete honesty. If I ask you a question, you will tell me the whole truth, not a veiled part of it. If you try any manipulation I will know, and I will walk out that door and not come back. Do you understand?”

Will saw the effect of his words filtering through Hannibal’s understanding of the evening in front of him. He dropped his gaze from Will’s face. “Yes.”

Will sighed forcefully, then slapped Hannibal’s cheek. It wasn’t hard but the sound it made was scandalous. “Look at me when you answer.” 

There was an instant where Will wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing. Hannibal’s face flushed deeper even than his reddened cheek, and he appeared genuinely shocked. It took a few seconds for him to truly meet Will’s eyes as he collected himself. Will waited for him.

“My apologies. Yes, I understand.” There was a tightness to his voice but also, Will thought, a growing appreciation of what Will asked. 

“Better,” Will said, and turned immediately to sit in one of the chairs by the fire. “I will let you know when it’s time for your answer.”

Time didn’t slow and his watch ticked along at the conventional rate. Will stared into the fireplace and resisted the temptation to look behind him where Hannibal knelt. There was barely a sound to be heard, both of them held in suspense by the other. He felt focused and calm, even as his pulse raced. Whatever happened now, was down to Hannibal, and he was ready to follow through on it.

After ten minutes had passed, he kept his back to Hannibal as he said, “Time’s up. I need your decision.”

There was an encompassing silence, and then a slight scuffing noise. Will dug his nails into his palms as he held his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sinuous movements of Hannibal rounding the chair to halt by his feet. He stilled, and then raised his gaze to meet Will’s. 

Pleased, Will held out his hand for Hannibal to lean into, “Come here.” Hannibal was silent, breath warm on his thigh, and held still as Will stroked his hair. “Before we truly begin, you need a safeword. Choose one now.”

“ _Tesoro._ ”

Will rolled his eyes. “Hannibal. You can’t use my pet name as your safeword.”

“On the contrary, it’s very practical. I would not presume to use it in this context. If you hear it from my lips you must assume I am asking for clemency.”

Will sighed and relented, “Fine.”

He stood suddenly, dropping his hand from Hannibal’s head and swiftly moving away. “Get on the bed. In the middle, hands and knees, facing the headboard. Don’t turn around.”

Will circled the bed from a distance as Hannibal did as instructed. He was surprised to note Hannibal was hard already, cock bouncing up against his stomach as he moved into position. Will studied the lines of his back, the minute flexes of tension across his flanks. He’d made inroads into the territory he must conquer to give Hannibal what he needed. But he’d not gone far enough yet.

He let the silence bleed out around them until it reached a nervous pitch. Then he began.

“You didn’t expect this, did you? When you first started seeing me you only saw me on my knees, not the situation reversed.” Will waited, watching Hannibal carefully. “Answer me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Hannibal's voice reached out across the space between them, low and hoarse.

“How does it feel, Hannibal? Knowing what we both do now - how at my mercy you are.”

There was a long pause, filled only by Hannibal swallowing uncomfortably. Will allowed him the time, aware he was pushing him into difficult territory. 

“...Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. You are too much.”

“You’ve never even considered offering yourself like this to someone else, have you?”

There wasn’t a pause this time - Hannibal’s answer came out in a pained rush. “No one else could be to me what you are.”

“And what is that?”

“Everything. You're everything.” His head was now bowed, focused on the rumpled sheets below him, and trembling slightly. 

Will approached the bed and trailed his fingers down Hannibal's spine, slowly. He watched the shiver follow them, starting from his shoulders and moving down towards his ass. “I expect you want me to fuck you, don't you?”

“Yes.” 

“You want my cock, want me to use you, come inside you.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said quietly.

“Always greedy for me, aren't you? Never satisfied. So desperate to find out what makes me tick.”

“Yes, always.”

“This time you'll have to earn it.” Will bent to speak softly in his ear. “This time you'll beg to please me, to show me how much I matter.”

Hannibal suppressed a moan, eyes tightly closed, a quiet shudder passing over him.

“You don’t seek validation from anyone, do you? Except me.” 

Will undressed rapidly at the foot of the bed. He dumped his clothes in a heap and climbed up behind Hannibal, making sure he was still out of his line of sight. It wouldn’t do to give him what he wanted so soon.

Kneeling with Hannibal in front of him, both of them naked and Will wearing his collar, gave him pause to consider the nature of power. His collar was supposed to mean submission, ownership, yet here it reflected the opposite. A symbol of his power over Hannibal - how Hannibal desperately wanted to possess him, even in ways he inevitably could not. The one constant was the confidence it gave Will - the security of Hannibal’s love, however it was shown and received. And through wearing it, Will returned it just as fervently. He felt triumphant, and for the first time that evening able to fully inhabit the role he’d been temporarily cast in.

Readying himself, Will rose into a crouch and shoved down hard on Hannibal’s back, pushing him fully onto the bed. Quickly, Will grabbed his hands and twisted them up behind him, with a knee in the small of his back. Hannibal did not put up any resistance, not even a token.

He leant down to speak in Hannibal’s ear, still out of sight. “Do you feel shame, Hannibal? Remember your promise to answer honestly.”

He felt Hannibal shift a little underneath him, testing his bounds and perhaps also unwilling to answer.

“Yes, and no. The sensation of submitting is disquieting, but I am not ashamed of whom I submit to and why I submit.”

Hannibal turned his head to press his cheek to the pillow, maybe an unconscious gesture to seek out Will, or perhaps a deliberate one. Nevertheless, Will moved round out of his peripheral vision, withholding this comfort from him.

“Why do you submit?”

There was a heavy sigh, and then Hannibal said, “I have no choice. Without you I would be bereft, hopeless. I must, to understand. And so you can understand too.”

Will silently faltered a little, and was glad Hannibal could not see him. He felt sure this was an honest answer, and also now that he was on the correct path.

“I know how much you want me, how much you need me. It didn’t take me long to learn that.” Will shifted, making sure his hardening cock pressed against the meat of Hannibal’s thigh. “If I ask you to debase yourself, you would - wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, in a whispered breath.

Will ground hard against him, using Hannibal’s warm skin to get himself fully hard. It pleased him to see beads of pre-come smearing onto Hannibal, marking him. With his finger he traced patterns over Hannibal’s ass, circling, dipping into the cleft but avoiding probing further.

“Tell me what you most want me to do to you right now.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I don’t think you want it badly enough yet. Stay there. You are not to move.”

He slid off the side of the bed, returning with lube, which he threw so it bounced onto the mattress next to Hannibal. 

“Use that. Show me. Do not turn around.”

Will knelt behind him, pinning Hannibal’s spread thighs to the bed with his knees. Hannibal stretched his shoulders and flexed his arms, returning sensation to his hands before picking up the lube. He watched Hannibal slick his fingers; watched as he reached a hand behind him.

“You will not put on a show for me, and you will not come,” Will said, transfixed by Hannibal’s searching but practised fingers, pressing into himself.

Hannibal nodded mutely, by turns methodically rubbing his hole and pushing his middle finger knuckle-deep inside. Will watched open-mouthed, stroking a lazy hand over his own hard cock. He thought about getting off on this alone, Hannibal desperate to be fucked and Will denying him - splashing himself instead over Hannibal’s hole as his fingers worked inside himself.

“Yes, keep going,” Will said.

When Hannibal instinctively rocked his hips downwards, rubbing himself on the sheets, Will slapped him hard on the thigh.

“No,” he said. “You may rut back on your fingers but not against the bed. Continue.”

He heard Hannibal suck in a shuddering breath as he pushed back against his hand. He gasped and panted; sounds all laboured with want. He twisted his arm hard behind himself, to press deeper, fuck harder with his fingers. The wet noise of them thrusting into him, knuckles smacking against his cheeks, brought Will to decision.

“That’s enough.” 

Hannibal halted at the command and withdrew, arm quivering from the effort as he pulled it back up to rest at his side. He lay splayed and open in front of Will, his earlier tension melted away into a far more focused need. Will lifted himself off Hannibal to shift backwards down the bed. There were two bright spots of red on Hannibal’s thighs which Will expected would deepen into beautiful bruises. Will leaned over him, breath tickling over Hannibal’s ass.

“What was it you wanted from me, Hannibal?” he asked, lips hovering over Hannibal’s hole. Will hoped he could feel every word brush against him.

“For you to fuck me.”

“You wanted me inside you, is that right?” 

“Yes.”

Will dragged the flat of his tongue from Hannibal’s balls up to his hole, ensuring it was good and wet and would feel utterly obscene. Hannibal gasped in surprise, maybe expecting a gentler, subtler approach. Will licked him lavishly, probing the delicate skin around his entrance, lapping over it. Hannibal moaned loudly for the first time that evening, fingers clutching at the sheets in an effort not to move.

“That’s right, just lie there and take it,” Will said, just before he plunged his tongue inside him as far as he could manage. 

Hannibal moaned again, and Will felt his ass flex under his fingers and around his tongue as he fucked him roughly with it. The heady intimacy was potent; powerful. 

He pulled back to catch his breath, panting hard over Hannibal’s slick and sodden skin. “Is there anything you’d like to say, Hannibal?”

“Please,” Hannibal bit out. “Please, Will, just fuck me.”

“Am I not now?”

“Your cock, with your cock.”

Will grinned and wiped his mouth. “Much better, thank you.”

He reached for the lube, slicking his hand generously and fisting himself so Hannibal could hear the lewd sounds it made. Hannibal reacted as he’d hoped, moaning and spreading his legs further apart. Will nudged his dick against his hole, a promise rather than a definite action, and considered the picture below him. He could just make out Hannibal’s flushed cheek on the pillow, hair loose and in his eyes, thighs straining apart in silent entreaty. He leaned forward to grasp Hannibal’s wrists to bring them behind his back. Then he slid decisively inside him in one smooth glide, biting back his own groan of relief.

Hannibal moaned again, this time in conspicuous pleasure.

“I don’t know why you sound so satisfied. Did I say you could come yet?”

Will smiled at Hannibal’s obvious frustration. There was tension showing again across his shoulders, and he let out a growled sob into the pillow.

“You have my cock, as you wanted. But that’s all you can have.” Will drew back and then pushed inside again, deeper, marvelling at how easy it was, how open Hannibal was around him. “I’m going to fuck you, and you will not come. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, thickly. He lay still now, shoulders heaving with deep, desperate pants.

“I will use you, take what I need from you. And you will let me.” Will bent over his back, twisting Hannibal’s arms to bend them at the elbows, pinning them against his shoulder blades. “You will welcome it, beg me to finish inside you, while I deny you.”

Leaning his weight hard onto Hannibal’s wrists, Will snapped his hips forward, roughly and repeatedly. Apart from the slapping noise of himself against Hannibal's ass, the only other sounds to be heard came from their harsh gasps and the rapid creaking of the mattress. The hot, greedy slide of Hannibal's body dragged Will onwards in a rush, but he kept his focus elsewhere - on how Hannibal strained to spread his thighs far apart, silently begging for more, harder, deeper. On Hannibal's face, cheek pressed into the pillow with eyes tightly shut and mouth open. How Hannibal’s shoulders must hurt as Will increased the pressure on them.

“Say it. Say it again.” Will growled out his demands and observed how Hannibal shuddered at them.

“Harder. Fuck me harder. Please Will.”

“And?”

“Come inside me. Please.”

“Yes, I will. Face the headboard - you’ve haven’t earned the right to watch me fuck you.”

Hannibal obediently turned his face away, now mostly hidden in the pillow. Will fucked him ruthlessly, listening to the gasping sounds he forced out of Hannibal.He drove himself forward to orgasm, knowing he must not draw this out for too long, but it still felt utterly selfish. He'd never ever done such a thing - just taking and taking, with no care for reciprocation. When he came, he pulled Hannibal’s ass roughly back against his hips, spine arching taut as he spilled himself deep inside. 

Panting, Will gathered himself quickly, and released Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal was trembling, his breathing laboured, but lay very still. Will gently slipped his cock from him, and sat back on his haunches. He stroked Hannibal’s sides soothingly, watching his own come slowly leak out of him, trickling down his thighs.

“You did very well,” Will said, far gentler than he’d let himself be since they’d begun.

Hannibal tensed, and when he swallowed it was thick and audible in the now-silent room.

“Exactly as I asked,” Will continued softly, as he knelt up once more. “You can relax now.”

Hannibal swallowed a sob and lowered his freed arms back to his sides, muscles trembling from the strain. Will slid his palms over his back in long light strokes. _Like consoling a captive tiger,_ thought Will. 

“That's right, let it go,” Will said, kneading his lower back a little harder, moving down to do the same to his ass. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes, if you desire it,” said Hannibal. His voice was quiet and choked, muffled in the pillow. He turned his head to speak, the wetness of his eyelashes clearly visible.

Will stroked lower to gently circle Hannibal's hole, and slid a finger inside him, still slick with lube and come. When Will brushed his prostate he shuddered once more with a pained whimper.

“I do. Turn over, please. I want you to look at me now.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Hannibal rolled heavily over to lie propped up on his elbows. He looked as Will had never seen him, cracked open and vulnerable, eyes red. On seeing Will's face they spilled more tears and Hannibal let them. Will crawled up over him, and leaned down to kiss his forehead, the bridge of his nose. 

“You are mine,” Will whispered over his lips.

Hannibal shut his eyes and nodded, his agreement silently ghosting over Will's mouth with a defeated sigh. Will rewarded him with one lingering kiss then drew back. He crowded close in between Hannibal's legs, with his thighs draped over his own. Hannibal's cock lay hard against his stomach, an angry and neglected red. Will loosely wrapped gentle fingers around it, hot silk against his palm. He brushed his thumb across the swollen head, wetness leaking freely down over his hand. Will stretched his other hand out to stroke over Hannibal’s chest, and further, fingers reaching to slide through the tears drying on his face.

“You earned it.” Will said, his voice taking on a different shape. Reverent, awed; at what he’d achieved, at what Hannibal had allowed him to do. His chest hurt with astonishing love, and he understood what Hannibal had meant when he’d explained why he had no choice but submit. Hannibal hadn’t only wanted to see Will like this, he’d needed to show himself to Will. And Will had seen.

He stroked him tenderly, aware Hannibal’s cock was over-sensitised with delayed need. It throbbed in his hand as Hannibal’s heartbeat pounded through it. Will leaned closer to him, stroking with more purpose but his grip was soft and coaxing. He cupped Hannibal’s cheek, thumb tracing the creases around his eyes.

“You were so good, so perfect,” Will said. “Come for me, just like this. I want to feel you spill hot over me; between us.”

Hannibal sobbed out Will’s name as his cock pulsed, spurting thickly over Will’s fingers. Will lunged forward to finally capture his mouth under his own, still softly gliding his fist over Hannibal’s cock. The touch of warm breath over his lips made Will crave more, sliding his mouth over Hannibal’s cheek to taste the salt of his tears. He held Hannibal there until the tremors subsided and he grew calmer.

Will rested his forehead to Hannibal’s, and said, “Are you okay?”

Hannibal’s arms came up around him, and Will gratefully stretched himself out over Hannibal. His muscles were cramped with holding himself in check.

“My _tesoro_ ,” Hannibal said, laying back with his eyes closed. “You outdid yourself.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’, then. Or a request for clemency. Or both.” Will smiled and pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s again, ardently.

Under him, Hannibal returned his kiss, parting his lips to slide their tongues together. Gradually, their kisses slowed into soft brushes of their mouths. 

“Mine.” Will said, winding his arms tight around Hannibal’s middle. “No one else can have you.”

Hannibal gave a quiet laugh. “Even if it were possible, I would pity whoever would need to challenge you. My fierce, determined Will - you are so well-named.”

Will lay comfortably arranged on top of Hannibal for some time, feeling the firm muscles of Hannibal’s chest and the plusher flesh of his stomach pressed against him. Hannibal seemed content to remain there also, hands roaming possessive and reclaiming over the skin of Will’s back.

“And what about you, Will? How do you feel about what you did tonight?” Hannibal said, eventually.

“It was hard work,” Will replied. “I hadn’t thought much about the responsibility of it. Doing that for you was… privileged. Very intense.”

Hannibal smiled. “You are spoiled, I think.”

“And as long as you're the one doing the spoiling, you like it that way. But if you need more… I did enjoy it.” Will pulled back to smirk openly at him. “I live to obey you, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n - _Tesoro_ is an Italian endearment which the internet tells me is essentially like calling someone ‘darling’, but it’s literal translation is ‘treasure’. Apparently it's used very casually and can apply to just about anyone or anything but here Hannibal’s decided it should be reserved for Will only :)


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are - the last one! Thanks to everyone for reading and supporting this, it means a huge amount - writing a fic this long takes up a stupid amount of energy and time - particularly wraithsonwings and lordofthelesbians :)

They sat on the porch together, under an old blanket, watching the sky deepen into darkness. Hannibal's chin dug into Will's shoulder, his arms tight around him, holding them both snug against the creeping chill. At their feet, an assortment of dogs slumbered, shunning the warmth of the fire inside to be closer to Will. Moths bumbled around the storm lantern on the rickety table, the only source of light apart from the rising moon. Will turned his face into Hannibal's cheek, and kissed it, evening regrowth scratching his lips.

“I like you like this. Rougher around the edges. No one else gets to see it.”

“I hope I haven't let myself go as much as all that.”

“I doubt one weekend in Wolf Trap is enough to turn you feral. Though if you do this more than once a month, you could end up wearing sweat-pants and shopping in Walmart like the rest of us simple country folk.”

In retaliation, Hannibal bit Will's earlobe and tugged at it. He then soothed it with kisses, and said, “I grew up in the country.”

Will settled comfortably back against him. “I imagine there's no Walmart in Lithuania. Tell me something about growing up there.”

“It was very rural. My family had a large estate, though as we no longer had the money to keep it going, parts of it became run-down. My sister and I used to play endless games in the forests. If we could, we would make them last all day.”

“I didn't know you have a sister.”

“She died. When I was sixteen. Her name was Mischa.” Hannibal paused, eyes seeking out the bright moon still low in the sky. “She was very young.”

Will pressed his lips against Hannibal's skin again, and whispered, “Shit. I'm sorry.”

Hannibal leaned into his touch, smiled, sighed. “There was an accident. It was nobody's fault, but I wished it had been. So I could have punished someone for it.”

Will was silent for a long moment. The heat from Hannibal's body bled into him and with it Will felt his continued grief, his rage. Not finished with yet, and not forgotten.

“You loved her very much.”

“Yes. Very much.”

“And she loved you back the same.”

It was Hannibal's turn to kiss him, now, soft and lingering on his temple. Will searched under the blanket to link his fingers with Hannibal's.

“What about you, _tesoro_? Your turn to tell me something.”

“You know it all. You were my psychiatrist, you have an unfair advantage.”

“I would hope you would have different stories to tell your lover, ones your psychiatrist has not heard. What about this place? Tell me something about that.”

“What's to tell? I live here and have done for eight years.”

“Why here? Is it the area you like, or the house?”

Will looked up at his agreeable little house, his refuge for so long. “Both, I guess. I wanted land, space around me - room to breathe and feel safe in. Quiet.”

“Sounds as if the house was a secondary concern.”

“Perhaps it was. But that doesn't mean I don't like it too.”

“You like some parts of it so much you refuse to use the others.”

“Yes, alright, I know it's unorthodox. You're not my therapist anymore, remember?” Will laughed, grinning into the night air.

Having Hannibal sleep in his bed, surrounded by his dogs had been an unexpected delight. He'd resisted the urge to over-prepare for Hannibal's visit, wanting to be found as he really was. And Hannibal had apparently chosen to see this as a great privilege, a glimpse behind the curtain. He studied Will's bookcases, his fly ties, even the box of tools waiting to be returned to his workshop, with open satisfaction. 

Will wore his collar too, the first time he'd done so outside of Hannibal's house. It was strange to take the dogs for a walk, feeling it wrapped warm around his skin, but right too. A slow coalescing of the scattered pieces of himself.

It seemed he might be truly, wholly happy.

“Why did you choose this house? There must have been others which fitted your needs.”

Will thought back to his first visit. It had been a warm, late summer morning. He'd quickly thrown off the realtor by striding across the wet grass to view the outbuildings, leaving him and his suede loafers standing on the porch. Looking back at the house alone and from a distance had been enough to convince him he could find respite there.

He shrugged. “I just knew. I could see myself here.”

“Your imagination can picture you anywhere.”

“I could see myself _happy_ here,” Will clarified. “Are you going to get to your point, Hannibal?”

“I'm trying to ascertain what you desire in a property. As you have already explained, you cannot choose without something to base your decision on.”

Will frowned, and turned to Hannibal. “You asking me to move in with you?”

Hannibal smiled, a slow amused curve of his lips which showed he thought he was being funny. “First, I am looking to answer your question of how and where we would live.”

“So you are asking me to move in with you. Just not tomorrow.”

“All I would like is for you to visit some houses for sale with me.”

Will snorted. “You're learning but still being pushy. Good job I wouldn't have you any other way.”

Hannibal kissed him, pleased. “So if I make some appointments, you will come?”

“Yes. Wait. Show me them online first, I’ll need to be prepared for what I'm going to see.”

“Of course.”

“Just to be clear, the dogs aren't living outside.”

“Yes, I know that.”

Will threw the blankets back, and gathered their empty glasses up from the table. “In fact, let's go in, you can show me now.”

The dogs trailed them back inside. They'd been entirely at ease with Hannibal all weekend, and happily accepting of his status. Will suspected Hannibal of surreptitiously feeding them treats, but he couldn't think such an obvious ploy would go unnoticed by Will. Instead, he likely judged Will would be quietly charmed by his attempts at making friends with his pack. Annoyingly, he was partly correct.

Inside, Will sought Hannibal's tablet and unlocked the screen. A quick scan of his open browser tabs displayed property websites, all with saved lists of houses for sale. Will rolled his eyes in exasperated affection, wondering how much research Hannibal had actually done. He began to look through them as Hannibal sat in the chair next to him.

Content it was now time to retire, the dogs all settled in their beds, apart from Charlie who ambled over to Will. Hannibal leaned down to scratch his ears, as Will flicked through the open tabs and winced at the prices.

“Which one is this again?”

“Stop pretending you can't remember their names, it's not funny.” Will held the tablet out to Hannibal. “Just tell me which of these you've already picked out and I'll tell you if you're wasting your time even thinking of it.”

With a secret smile, Hannibal immediately opened a new tab. “This one.”

“Fuck Hannibal, it has a swimming pool,” Will blurted out with dismay. 

“Yes, and a large open-plan downstairs living space which would suit the dogs, and plenty of rooms upstairs for the things I would need to keep out of their reach. Also, the master bedroom unusually has a large adjoining room, in addition to a dressing room, which I thought we could make good use of.”

Will didn’t give this speech much attention, concentrating instead on making his own searches. It took him three minutes to find something more suitable. He dropped the tablet onto Hannibal’s lap.

“This - don't say no straight away-”

“But it’s too small,” said Hannibal.

Will just looked at him for a moment, frowning down at a picture of a perfectly reasonable family house like it was a unkempt shack. With sudden and startling clarity he could see them having versions of this conversation, spread over many, many years.

Hiding his smile, Will started again. “I hadn’t finished. It could quite easily be extended out this way, double height probably. There are some around here like that, hidden away, but they don’t come onto the market very often. There’d be good views towards the mountains. You could get an architect in - retain the original features in the existing house but do something flashy with the outside. And design your own kitchen - not just the layout, but the space as well. What do you think?”

Hannibal sighed. “I'll call them first thing tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n:
> 
> I know Wolf Trap is actually a pretty big place but I'm sticking with the show's implied suggestion that it's a tiny, out of the way, nowhere place.
> 
> Mischa - this is deliberate canon divergence to suit a different version of Hannibal, as is his age at her death.

**Author's Note:**

> Cathexis now has a [sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9148879) and [timestamps!](http://archiveofourown.org/series/481585)
> 
> And also a Penguin-style [book cover](http://shoegazerx.tumblr.com/post/149044856126/i-was-a-king-under-your-control-inspired-by)!
> 
> Come scream with me about Hannibal on Tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> [weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
